


the world shifts (and I am better here)

by lachesisgrimm (olga_theodora)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: #sensual hair braiding, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Brief thoughts of suicide, Devoted Reylo, Don't copy to another site, Eventual HEA, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Force Bond (Star Wars), Han Ships It, Magic, Padme of course plays an important role, Pining, Pregnancy, Prophecy, Rey had a terrible childhood, Sleeping Beauty Elements, background Han/Leia, ben solo canonically cannot keep his mouth shut, brief mention of miscarriage but no actual miscarriage, brief threats of rape/non-con, cats love Han Solo, cockblocking is a venerable skywalker tradition, serious conversations in barns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-10-05 19:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 102,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olga_theodora/pseuds/lachesisgrimm
Summary: Once upon a time there was a beggar girl whose parents sold her to a thief, and she was very unhappy.In which prophecy is used with malicious intent, and the universe exerts itself to correct the problem.





	1. shadows

**Author's Note:**

> And here I am with something new and different!

_Once upon a time._

The words snuck into Rey’s head unbidden as she hid behind refuse in the shadows of the alley, barely daring to breathe as Plutt berated his henchmen just out of sight. “One scrawny girl,” he seethed. “You let her slip through your fingers, disappear into some bolt-hole with _my_ money-”

 _My money,_ Rey thought stubbornly even as the words returned. 

_Once upon a time-_

Just twenty dollars, but Plutt had never forgiven theft before, no matter how small. Rey should have remembered that, but her anger when he had stolen her carefully hoarded savings had overruled her better sense. Nearly three hundred dollars gone in a moment, never to be seen again, and when she had spotted the crumpled bill left unattended on a table she had grabbed it with a sense of cold fury. She was _hungry,_ so hungry, and-

_Once upon a time there was a beggar girl-_

“I want every corner searched, every rock overturned,” Plutt continued. “If you find her-”

Rey wrinkled her nose as the hot, fetid air of the alley increased the low throb in her temples. There was an itch on the back of her neck, a crawling feeling, and she resisted the urge to knock away whatever insect rested there. 

_Once upon a time there was a beggar girl whose parents sold her to a thief-_

“- _when_ you find her, bring her to me!” There was a wet splat, likely that of Plutt spitting his tobacco onto the pavement. “Should have made her earn her keep on her back years ago.”

His last words were muttered, but Rey heard them well enough. They began to walk away, Plutt still grumbling. Rey- mouth dry as cotton and tasting of copper, stomach churning- held as still as humanly possible. 

That was no empty threat.

_Go._

Go where? Plutt had spies on every street, and she would be too conspicuous in the nicer parts of town. 

_Perhaps,_ she thought as panicked tears threatened, _it’s time to just walk into the desert._

_Once upon a time there was a beggar girl whose parents sold her to a thief, and she was very unhappy._

The insect on the back of her neck stung her, the flare of pain so unexpected and intense that a muffled cry escaped her throat. Footsteps stopped, then reversed direction.

She fled, bolting from her hiding spot toward the other end of the alley. Behind her Plutt and his men cursed and followed, feet pounding against the concrete. They were going to catch her. They _would_ catch her, because although she was normally faster they were better fed, and adrenaline would only keep her out of their grasp for so long. They would catch her and beat her and drag her back to Plutt’s compound, and the only way she would leave there would be as a corpse. 

Rey darted around corners and out into the light, running into the street without regard for oncoming traffic. She was nearly struck once, then a second time, horns blaring all around as she sprinted for the alley across the way. The shadows were thicker there, almost as dark as night, but she barely noticed: men were shouting behind her, and what felt like fingertips grasped at her upper arm.

Her right foot fell into the pool of shadow, the barrage of noise abruptly dimming and skewing metallic. Her left foot followed and a shaft of light cut through the gloom, golden and dappled.

Rey tripped over an unseen obstacle and fell, and fell, and fell, and though she screamed she didn’t hear a sound. 

\- - -

_The room had been opulent, once, though the gleam of polished wood and clear, faceted crystal had been dulled by time and inattention. Everything around her was uncared for- everything, that was, save the man sleeping in the enormous bed in the center of the room._

_“Once upon a time,” Rey heard as she drew closer, “a prince lay in an enchanted sleep in a forgotten tower…”_

_The embroidered coverlet was caked with dust and the pillows had gone flat, but he lay perfect and untouched. Generations of spiders had spun their webs above and around him, but his chest slowly rose and fell. A dark rot grew on the walls, but his hair, thick and gleaming, spilled in perfect waves around his face._

_She reached forward to shake him awake._

\- - -

Rey woke up with her face in the dirt.

Which, given that Jakku was almost entirely concrete and sand, was very odd.

With a grunt she rolled onto her back and sat up, every muscle protesting. It was night, wherever she was, and cold, and under her palms was more dirt and what felt like pine needles. A breeze rustled around her, sifting through- through branches?

 _I’m hallucinating from a poisonous bug bite,_ she thought first, her mind fuzzy. Then, _I’m drugged and shackled to a fucking wall somewhere._

A drop of water splashed against her forehead, rolling down the bridge of her nose. Then another, and another, and a multitude more until her clothing was damp and Rey was forced to admit that this was _rain,_ and maybe she was hallucinating but maybe she wasn’t, because she was sitting in the middle of what looked more and more to be a forest in a deluge.

The crack of thunder overhead sent her scrambling to her feet.

 _Where do I go?_ she asked herself wearily as lightning briefly illuminated her surroundings. Every direction had looked the same, in that flash of light, and once the lightning had dissipated she could barely see a thing. Rey- a child of the desert, of a town rich with light pollution- had never felt quite so at a loss. 

Forward seemed to make the most sense, and forward she went, walking an interminable length of time through cold, driving rain that made her shiver, her clothing sopping wet. The bite on the back of her neck itched; every inch of her skin felt tight and sensitive. 

_Fever dream._ “Better a spider than Plutt,” she said through chattering teeth. “Better a wolf than Plutt, or-”

She nearly walked straight into a tree and course corrected just in time, low branches snatching at her tangled hair.

“Maybe,” Rey mumbled, holding her hands in front of her to feel out a path, “maybe I wandered out into the desert and some hiker will find my bones in a year. Or maybe archaeologists will one day find my skull in a cave…”

“Shh.”

She stilled, swaying a little, unsure if she had just heard a voice or if she had only heard the wind through the trees. 

“Shh,” came the same low rumble, and warm hands closed gently over her shoulders. “Quiet, little one.”

Normally Rey would have jabbed an elbow into anyone who dared lay a hand on her, let alone called her by some kind of diminutive, but with the rain slanting directly into her face she couldn’t muster the energy to object. “They’ll call me the missing link,” she informed her mystery companion, not registering the way her words blurred together. “I’ll be famous.”

“I’m sure,” the man- it was a man, she thought- replied after a moment with a barely audible chuckle. “You need to sit down.”

“In the rain?” She snorted, waving a hand dismissively. “I need… are you a monster?”

He or it said nothing for a long span of seconds. “Some might say.” Those hands nudged her forward. “Go on.”

She stumbled forward, still shivering despite the oddly warm lassitude spreading through her limbs. “I hope you are a monster.” Only the grip on her shoulders kept her upright when she stumbled again. “Because he’s going to hurt me- I’ve spent so long trying to look… look like _nothing,_ but now he’s going to hurt me and he’s going to let his men hurt me-”

A harsh whisper, almost in her ear. “He won’t.”

“-so if you wouldn’t mind just eating me quick I’d really appreciate it-”

“Shh, shh.”

“-I don’t know what’s going on, though, because there are all these trees… I’ve never seen so many trees in my life-”

Those gentle hands guided her under the shelter of a large, thickly branched tree. A few drops of rain splashed onto her face, but hardly the downpour of before. The hands disappeared and were replaced with heavy warmth. 

_Cloth,_ she realized as the hands settled on her waist and drew her downward. 

“Don’t tell me your name,” the voice whispered, arms wrapping around her. Her cheek rested against someone’s chest. “Do you know, for as long as I’ve been-”

He paused. “-been like this, I’ve never met a soul?”

“I’m not here.” Rey yawned. “I’m dying in the desert.”

This was too strange, too unworldly to be real. She couldn’t be in some forest, wrapped in a length of cloth while curled up on a stranger’s lap. The idea was too ridiculous.

“If you like.” 

He was humoring her, and she drilled one finger into his firm chest in response. “I _am._ ”

“Of course you are.” Oddly dry hair brushed over her forehead. “You should go south, in the morning,” he murmured. “Are you listening? Go south into the mountains and cross before it snows. Find a kindly farmwife in the plains beyond who needs an extra set of hands.”

“Huh.” Rey snuggled in, beyond caring about anything other than the heat he exuded. “Why south?”

“It’s safer in the south.” 

“Why?”

“Because there’s a monster in the north,” he replied in a strained voice. 

“You don’t seem like much of a monster.”

He was silent for so long that she almost drifted off, but then a quiet: “I’m not the only monster.”

A large, warm hand settled on her cheek as she tiredly puzzled over that answer. “Shh,” he whispered. “Go to sleep.”

And maybe there was a little bit of magic in him, because she did.

\- - -

_Once upon a time._

Rey stirred, thrashing against the weight that pinned down her limbs. Her mother’s voice was so faint, so distant. 

“Come back.” A whisper she scarcely recognized as her own, ragged and cracked.

A cool hand pressed lightly against her forehead as murmurs washed over her. Maybe one voice or maybe a dozen, or maybe- or maybe she was a child again, and the weight was her mother’s arm looped securely around her waist. 

_Be quiet, Rey. Sit still. Once upon-_

Sitting in corners of impersonal rooms with her mother’s whispers in her ear, her father talking quietly with strangers near the door. As unwanted stepdaughters searched for strawberries in the snow money changed hands, and that was the way it was until the day Plutt carried her away, the story of Vasilisa the Beautiful left forever unfinished. 

“It’s all right,” an unknown voice said, that cool hand cupping her cheek. “You’re safe here.”

And Rey, mind askew and body half-starved, laughed. 

She’d never been safe anywhere.

\- - -

She might have awakened a half-dozen times more- she wasn’t sure; time seemed to blend together- but finally Rey opened her eyes with a relatively clear mind. She was lying on a pallet under several heavy blankets, her worn jeans and over-sized sweatshirt replaced by something light and thin. What looked like firelight flickered over the wall in her field of vision. 

Rey stretched cautiously, hissing at the lingering soreness she could still feel in her muscles. She was weak, too weak for comfort, but the pain was clearly the result of illness and not a beating, and the room she rested in was completely unfamiliar. What that meant for her was uncertain.

“Good morning.”

With a little difficulty Rey rolled over to face the owner of that calm, raspy voice: an older woman with the bearing of a queen, hair braided in a coronet and her body clothed in a tunic and pants that looked vaguely medieval to Rey’s tired eyes. She knelt beside her, offering an almost wry smile. “We weren’t sure you would pull through.”

“Where-”

Rey broke off, wincing at the raw ache in her throat. 

“You’re still in Alderaan,” the woman replied, and Rey had the sense that she was supposed to be reassured by those words. “We found you in the woods nearly a week ago. Do you remember what happened?”

Rey furrowed her brow, finding only flashes of memory. Plutt. Rain. Hands on her shoulders. A-

“A monster,” she murmured uncertainly. 

The woman’s smile faded. “There are certainly plenty of those, these days,” she said after a moment in a careful tone. “If someone abandoned you in the forest, sick as you were, they would certainly deserve that title.”

That didn’t sound quite right to Rey- there was a sense of kindness amidst her memory of rain- but perhaps Plutt had dumped her after all and the fever had wiped the recollection from her mind. “My-”

She searched for the right word and disliked the only one she found. “My master-”

Her companion’s expression shifted to muted anger and she spoke a word that Rey didn’t understand but recognized as a curse. “Monster, indeed,” she continued, brushing stray strands of hair away from Rey’s face. “But there are no slaves here, young…?”

She raised a questioning brow. 

“Rey.”

“Rey.” Her smile returned. “And I’m Leia. Do you think you could handle some broth?”

Rey could, as it turned out, and while the gamy note to the liquid was odd to her tongue it was still good. Better than she’d tasted in a while, really, with a silken weight that soothed her throat. 

“Lucky you decided to stop near one of our rabbit snares,” Leia was saying as she sipped, her strong arm keeping Rey upright. “Rose and Finn found you. They’ll be glad to hear that you’re on the mend; they’ve both been worried.”

Rabbit snares. Rey turned the words over in her mind as she took another sip, understanding them well enough even if the concept was foreign.

“Honestly, you’re the most exciting thing that’s happened since our hunters took down a boar last winter.” Leia’s voice was dry, yet fond. “We live a quiet life here, you’ll find, and we have enough to share around.” Leia tsked. “You’re thin as a wraith, my dear.” 

She plucked the empty cup from Rey’s hands. “Rest. Your stomach won’t thank you if you drink any more.”

No one had ever encouraged Rey to rest, or treated her with such unselfish courtesy. “This is a dream,” Rey muttered as the older woman helped her lay down. “This can’t possibly be real.”

Leia scrutinized her carefully, then shook her head with a soft expression. “No dream,” she assured Rey, patting her hand. “Just a different place.”

\- - -

If there was one thing Rey excelled at, it was adapting. Adapting to hunger, to expectations, to anything the universe might throw at her. 

Including, it turned out, finding herself in entirely new circumstances.

 _Not Jakku,_ she thought as days passed and she began to regain her strength. _The furthest thing from Jakku,_ she thought when she got her first good look at the towering trees that surrounded Leia’s home.

Her memories might be muddled, but one thing was clear: wherever she was, it wasn’t within her own state. It wasn’t even within her own country. 

_Might not even be the same planet,_ she thought with surprising calm as she sat outside Leia’s cabin, taking in a bit of fresh air while wrapped in a blanket. One of the hunters- Poe, if she recalled correctly- passed by with a friendly wave, an orange and white dog trailing close behind. _Maybe I slipped from one world to another, and I disappeared right in front of Plutt’s eyes._

That explanation made no sense at all, but considering the only other alternative she could come up with was that she had fallen into a very vivid coma Rey preferred the fantastic to the fantastically grim. Her surroundings certainly seemed real enough, from the taste of Leia’s brown bread to the slight scratchiness of the blanket around her, and the small settlement was hardly idealized as a fantasy doubtless would be. The buildings were snug, but were bare of anything Rey would consider a modern convenience. 

Not that she particularly cared. She had been living rough for years, having learned at a young age that luxuries like indoor plumbing and central heating often came at too high a price. 

“As long as I don’t get sent back,” she murmured, closing her eyes to enjoy the cool breeze. “Or wake up.”

_Once upon a time, a beggar maid-_

Something- not a noise, but an inkling of oddness- caught her attention, and she quickly opened her eyes to survey her surroundings. 

A man stood in the shadows of a nearby clutch of trees, his features too obscured for Rey to identify. He was familiar, she thought, but couldn’t pinpoint exactly why or how. Not one of the hunters, not one of the people who handled the horses, or the chickens, or the small herd of goats. Leia had introduced everyone, hadn’t she? And yet…

“Hello.”

He shifted a little at her greeting, as though he were somehow surprised. “Hello,” he replied after a long moment, so quietly the word was almost lost in the breeze.

“Have we met?”

“Briefly.” He took a step closer, though not close enough for her to truly see him. “You were very ill; I doubt you remember.”

“No, I think I do.” Rey frowned, a thread of memory teasing her. Rain? “A little. Maybe.”

“More than most,” she thought she heard him murmur, and was about to reply when Leia stepped outside, extending a hand to help her up. 

“You need to eat,” she said, giving Rey a look that was not to be argued with. “Come inside before you catch a chill.”

When Rey was back on her feet she looked to the shadows and found them empty. 

_Shy,_ she thought as Leia ushered her inside, and turned her attention to other things.


	2. stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to everyone for your encouragement!
> 
> Dreams will always be in italics.

“I’m beginning to think you came from very far away,” Leia said one night as she examined Rey’s jeans, peering at the ragged hole in one knee. “I’ve never seen fabric like this, not from this kingdom or any other.”

This was a kingdom, then. With the ease born of long practice Rey tucked that tidbit away without showing surprise. _I always knew that,_ she tried to convey by body language alone. _A kingdom, sure. I never thought otherwise._

She trusted Leia. She trusted Leia more than she had ever trusted anyone- but now that she was well, Rey was learning day by day just how odd she herself was, in this world. She didn’t know how to set a snare, or skin a rabbit, or sew a proper seam. Without proper supervision she pulled plants and weeds alike in the garden. Hell, she couldn’t even start a fire, half the time.

_But I can jimmy a lock,_ Rey would think when her attempt at spinning unfurled in a cloud of fiber. _I can slip into small, nearly inaccessible places. I can speak English and Spanish, and I can curse in Russian._

What the others made of her, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps they thought her a lord’s sheltered daughter on the run, or an escaped concubine who had been waited on hand and foot. Most were kind, others were merely civil. No one laid a finger on her. 

No one laid a finger on her, Rey suspected, because of Leia. And if Leia decided that Rey was too strange, or too troublesome… 

“Do you know how it’s woven?” the woman herself was asking, and Rey quickly shook her head, keeping her eyes on the bit of knitting she had been given. A stocking- theoretically, at least, given how she was mucking it up.

Leia hummed in consideration as she folded the jeans. “It would take a complex loom,” she said, almost to herself. “And stronger needles and thread for the piecing.”

_I’m from an alternate universe,_ Rey imagined saying. _I nearly died for the monetary equivalent of twenty-odd ramen packets._

Her companion- hell, her protector, as far as Rey could tell- added another log to the fire. They both stiffened at the sound of a distant cry, one that sounded disturbingly human. 

“Sit back down,” Leia said when Rey shot to her feet, knitting falling to the floor. 

Rey couldn’t. For a moment she was reliving a shred of memory- wandering in the rain, _quiet, little one_ \- and then she was taking a step toward the bolted door. 

“Rey!”

Leia’s hand grabbed her arm, holding her in place. “Sit back down,” she repeated firmly, her tone edged with worry. “We don’t go out at night.”

Rey turned slowly to her, feeling as if a puzzle piece she hadn’t even been aware that she was missing rested just out of reach. “We don’t?”

“No.” Leia smoothed a hand over Rey’s hair. “No, we don’t.”

And there it was, on Leia’s face: an indication that both she and Rey were experiencing the exact same phenomenon, albeit in different ways. Rey had just learned something important about her new existence. Leia, though- Leia had just learned something important about Rey. Something that was apparently inexplicable, in her worldview. Excuses could be made for Rey’s manner of arrival, for her utter inability to perform common chores, but-

_But not this,_ Rey realized with dread. Tripped up by fucking trees, of all things. Trees she had even become fond of. 

“Odd things have always happened in these woods,” Leia said seriously as Rey’s breathing grew labored despite her best efforts. “People disappear- or appear,” she added with a significant look, and the knot of tension inside Rey loosened slightly. “I-”

She hesitated, her gaze never leaving Rey. “ _We_ live here because of a certain… dispensation. Even with that we don’t set foot outside at night, no matter what we hear.”

“I see,” Rey replied after a moment, the words whispered. 

The cry came again, trailing off into what sounded like a sob. 

“So we…” Rey began, flicking a glance toward the door, “we… knit?”

Unexpectedly Leia laughed, though the sound was almost sad. “Not tonight,” she said. “The first time experiencing… that… would set anyone on edge.”

As Leia moved over to the cupboard Rey settled beside the hearth, purposefully avoiding her former chair to be closer to the source of heat. 

She had been in the forest at night. Rey might not remember it, not exactly, but she could remember rain and dark and someone warm. Half-forgotten words drifted through her mind: _Are you a monster?_

Leia handed her a cup, and when Rey choked a little on her first fiery sip she chuckled quietly. “It has a kick,” she said kindly. “Take it slow.”

Rey’s next cautious sip slid more easily down her throat, still raw-edged but almost golden. “You make this here?”

“We make everything here.”

Rey resisted sliding a glance toward her, instead watching the fire. The settlement did seem cut off. They produced their own food, their own cloth- every essential seemed to come from local labor. Rey hadn’t thought that odd before, but…

_A dispensation,_ she mused. From who? Or what? How far, exactly, were they from the nearest village? 

“What,” Rey began, and then changed tactics. “Will you… tell me a story?”

She could barely speak the request. No one had told her a story since the loss of her mother. She felt the weight of Leia’s regard on her for a long moment, but then the tension in the room eased. “Why not?” Leia murmured, the sound of liquid trickling into a cup background to the two quiet words. Her foot tapped against the floor twice, and she began. 

“There was once a young queen who was fair and wise and good-”

Slowly Rey turned her head, watching Leia sidelong. 

“- who fell in love with a mage.” A humorless smile appeared on Leia’s face. “And that love was stronger than her wisdom and her duty to her people. There were other monarchs, you see, who looked at her rich little kingdom and desired to take it for their own. If she wanted to avoid war, a strategic marriage was her only choice.”

Rey sipped fire and held her tongue. 

“Instead, she and her mage were married in secret, and soon enough the queen fell pregnant.” Leia tossed back a gulp without a flinch. “And when an army arrived at the border, the mage met it alone. He was powerful- very powerful- and the love he felt for his wife made him unwise in his own way.”

“He died?” Rey asked in a murmur when silence stretched on several beats too long.

“Yes,” Leia answered, her attention on the remaining contents of her cup. “And so did the invading army. Every last soldier, horse, page, camp follower… everyone. And when the next army arrived, they died in the exact same way. And the next, and the next. All without combat. Eventually the other kingdoms understood the lesson: the border was impassable, at least for a conquering force.”

“And the queen?”

“She gave birth to twins.” Leia set aside her cup, turning her gaze to Rey. “He was born here, though. They say,” she added belatedly, eyes shifting briefly away. “The mage. They say he still cries for his lost love and the children he never met.”

Rey took a sip for courage as the echoes of weeping rippled through the forest. “What happened to the queen and her children?”

“Ahh.” Leia leaned forward and picked up the poker, sending sparks flying when she jostled the logs. “That’s a story for another night.” 

\- - -

The warning came when she had thought herself alone.

“Poisonous.”

Rey sat back on her heels, considering the plant in front of her. “They look just like the ones Paige showed me.”

“Almost. Do you see the way the leaves have three points? You want the ones with only two, like that bush over there.”

She turned her head to look at the speaker, somehow not surprised to see that he was sitting in the deepest part of the shade. “You swear?”

He chuckled. “On my life. It’s a mild poison, though, so if you feel the need to give someone a bellyache…”

“Not at the moment, no.” Rey upended her basket, dumping out the few berries she had collected thus far, and then moved to the other bush. “But I’ll keep that in mind. What’s your name? Leia must have made introductions while I was still feverish.”

There was the barest of hesitations. “Kylo.”

_No, it isn’t,_ Rey found herself thinking as she began to pluck the small, dark fruit. “I’m-”

“The girl from the forest,” he interrupted. “The one I’ve heard so much about.”

She wrinkled her nose in irritation. “And you’ve heard- what? That I can’t milk goats or cook porridge? Or maybe you’ve heard that I can’t darn stockings.”

“No.” His voice, already quiet, turned almost soft. “Only good things.”

There had been times in her old life when one or another of Plutt’s men had tried luring her into bed with sweet words and friendly gestures. That kindness had always died once they realized that Rey had no intention of taking the bait. This should have felt the same.

It didn’t feel the same. For the first time Rey felt a spark of interest- and whether that was because _he_ was of genuine interest, or whether she finally felt safe enough for those kinds of feelings she wasn’t quite sure. 

“You must spend most of your time away from the settlement,” she said finally, berries dropping one by one into her basket. “I see everyone else at least once a day. Are you one of the guards?”

He didn’t answer, and when she turned her head to look at him she found that he was watching her- or she thought he was, at least. Difficult to tell with him hidden in the shadows; it was entirely possible he was lost in his own thoughts, staring at nothing in particular. “Are you Kaydel’s husband?” Rey asked with a slight frown, remembering the young woman who wore what appeared to be a wedding ring but otherwise lived alone. “A trapper? A spy?”

He shook his head. “None of the above. You’re gaining some weight; that’s good.”

Interest or not, Rey didn’t appreciate that comment. Leveling a glare on him she said, “Planning to eat me?” 

She thought she heard him mutter “It was on offer,” but his voice was so hushed that he could have been saying almost anything. Whatever he had said, he followed it up with a vaguely flustered, “You just look healthy. Better. But you would look better, with the fever gone.”

“Right,” Rey said slowly. 

“You look-”

He broke off, then finished with what sounded like wistfulness. “You look content, sitting in the sunlight.”

Rey turned to the berry bush in front of her, feeling a kind of pleased embarrassment. “Would you like to sit with me?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light. “Plenty of sun to share.”

When he remained silent she opened her mouth to say _something_ \- to tease him, perhaps, or change the subject; she wasn’t sure- but then she glanced back and found that he had slipped away without a sound. In her mind memories of Leia’s voice and her mother’s suddenly overlapped, layering _odd things have always happened in these woods_ over _once upon a time there was…_

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered aloud, picking berries hastily. “Just because…”

Rey carried her uneasiness and that damnable flicker of interest with her for the rest of the day, unsure what to make of any of it.

“What did the king look like?” she asked Leia later that evening, when the fire had been banked and they were both tucked into their respective beds.

She could practically hear Leia mulling over the question and why Rey might be asking it. “Blond,” Leia finally said, uttering not a word more- and when Rey saw Kylo and Snap walking together through the forest the next morning, her half-formed suspicions felt very foolish indeed.

\- - -

It was difficult to keep track of the days without clocks or calendars, and after a while Rey simply gave up. What use was there, after all, in trying to pinpoint exactly how long she had been in Alderaan? 

_I live here now,_ she would think to herself on increasingly chilly mornings as she fetched eggs from the chicken coop, still feeling a flutter of wonder at the realization. The ill-tempered red hen that pecked at her hands most days couldn’t dim her satisfaction, not when Rey’s mental list of _people who want to hurt me_ had astonishingly ceased to matter. As her spinning smoothed, as her stitches became tiny and straight, the smug thought _I can be useful as something other than a thief_ would drift through her mind. Even the weeping in the forest was its own kind of reminder that she had left Jakku behind. Better a haunting, Rey felt, than the cries of very real and wounded people. 

And through it all- as she tentatively formed friendships, as she quietly celebrated her own small successes- Rey watched for Kylo and talked with him whenever their paths crossed. Their interludes were short, containing only a handful of quiet words, the occasional laugh, the rare shy compliment, but she enjoyed each and every encounter even if he did continue to cling to the shadows with a stubbornness only eclipsed by the local goats. 

The night when she realized that the memory of his voice alone created a thrumming heat between her thighs nearly stymied her. 

_I have a crush._

Ridiculous, unbelievable words. A crush on someone whose face she had never clearly seen, with whom she had only discussed the most mundane of topics. That flicker of interest had evolved into small, warm feelings without her permission, and yet- 

And yet the thought of trying to quash them was almost unbearable. Far more interesting were the half-dozen daydreams of joining him under the trees to discover what, exactly, he looked like when he smiled and what might lie under all that dark clothing- daydreams Rey swiftly shoved aside with a blush when she remembered that she shared a room with another person. 

She couldn’t stop thinking of those little fantasies, though. Not when she baked bread (edible, if not as delicious as Leia’s), not when she washed clothing in the nearby stream, and especially not when she caught a glimpse of the man himself… as she did midway through one of Rose’s butchering lessons, spotting him lingering not too far from where Finn chopped wood. 

“He’s very quiet, isn’t he?” 

Rose looked up from the pheasant she was plucking, following Rey’s gaze. “Sometimes,” Rose acknowledged. “He didn’t grow up here, you know- he used to be in the king’s army.” She met Rey’s eyes, her expression serious. “He objected when his squadron was ordered to burn a village, and his former brothers-in-arms hunted him until he reached the forest border.”

_No wonder he avoids people. His trust was shattered._ His use of a false name, his tendency to stay semi-hidden suddenly made more sense; perhaps he was even self-conscious of a visible injury. “Why did the king want the village burned?”

Rose’s mouth thinned and she yanked at feathers almost savagely. “Why did he make slaves of the people from my home district? Why did he raise farmers’ tithes to starvation levels? Because he finds cruelty amusing.”

She glanced back toward the men and sighed. “Nearly all of us have stories like that.”

_A dispensation._ Escaped slaves, ruined landholders, tortured soldiers- some way, somehow, Leia (because it had to have been Leia) had gathered them together and provided a safe home in a place where even the king’s men feared to tread. This was no settlement of normal villagers, but a band of outcasts and refugees. 

_Just like me,_ came the thought, and there was no pain in it.

“He’s getting better, though,” Rose added, a blush creeping over her cheeks. “We’re marrying at midwinter.”

It was like a punch to the gut. Rey barely managed to hide her shock, her hurt, instead valiantly mustering a smile of her own. “Congratulations.”

_No reason to be disappointed,_ she reminded herself, surprised by how bruised she felt. _What did you expect?_

The tears pricking at her eyelids were entirely out of proportion. She would be fine. She would dance at their wedding, if that was a thing they did here, and she would smile as their tall, dark-haired children grew, and she would be _fine._

Still, something must have slipped through in her demeanor- something Rose didn’t catch, but Leia did when Rey returned home for the evening meal. “It’s like that, then,” she said after taking a good look at Rey’s face, her tone kind, and fetched the bottle of spirits from its spot in the cupboard. 

She didn’t ask for an explanation, and Rey didn’t offer one. 

\- - - 

_Her heavily embroidered skirts swirled over the ballroom floor, carving patterns in the dust. “Does he never sweep?” Rey asked, looking up into the shadows that veiled her partner’s face. “He has servants, surely.”_

_“He’s not a man for dancing.”_

_She could tell by tone alone that he was smiling. “Still-”_

_“Still.” The hand at her back held her firmly as they went into a turn, fingertips just touching the skin revealed by her low-backed gown. “If he had ever taken a queen, perhaps he would be different,” he murmured. “But he never did, of course. He guards his throne too jealously.”_

_He sent her into a spin, the hand holding hers her only anchor for a span of seconds. “Does he need a queen?” Rey asked when she was safely back in his arms._

_“A king is nothing without his queen.” His hands were so much larger than hers, and she wanted them in her hair, cupping her breasts, running over her thighs. “Alderaan has never been without one,” he continued, pulling her closer. “Not until now. But one day soon…”_

_His tone was too intimate for her to mistake the implications. They stopped in the middle of the floor, at a spot where light and dark were too clearly demarcated to be mere happenstance. “I’m in the wrong story,” Rey whispered, staring at the way his pale hand twined with hers, shadows cutting him off at the wrist. “I’m not light, not at all.”_

_“The world seems to disagree.”_

_“I’m a thief,” she argued. “I’ve picked pockets, broken into houses, collected bribes, delivered drugs-”_

_“And you were, what? Five when your parents delivered you into his keeping? Five when he taught you to steal, to run his errands? Five when he made it clear that you would work or starve?”_

_Rey broke away, shaken, and took a step back. “Fifteen years under his thumb makes me anything but light,” she said in a low voice that barely stayed even. “I could have run-”_

_“Where? He stole your money, your chance at freedom.” He held out his hand, long fingers crossing the line between them. “Your… bus fare?”_

_Despite the weight of the moment, the way he said those two words- stiffly, uncertainly- struck her as ridiculously funny. “Begging in LA would have been an upgrade,” she said amidst irrepressible laughter. “Believe me.”_

_“I believe you. Rey.”_

_Her laughter died. The way he said her name… no one had ever said her name like that. Like it was air, or water- something utterly necessary. Her next words came out slowly, a question meant more for herself than him. “What story is this?”_

_The hand held out between them never wavered. “The one where you wake me up.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm apparently unable to think, type, or say the words "I'm in the wrong story" without hearing them sung by the Baker's Wife from _Into the Woods._


	3. departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise mid-week posting!

“Are you avoiding me?”

“Of course not.” Rey stooped to gather a piece of kindling. “Why would I do that?” 

Kylo trailed after her as she continued on. “I don’t know.”

He sounded absolutely clueless, and it sparked an anger inside Rey that she had been trying to suppress ever since she had learned of his engagement. _Different customs,_ she had told herself. _Different time, different world._ The excuses hadn’t made her feel any better. 

“Why are you always creeping through the shadows?” she snapped, passing by any number of perfectly acceptable branches in favor of staying a step ahead of him. “Why do I never see you coming back with game or caring for the livestock?”

“Well…” he murmured, and if he had any further words she rode roughshod over them. 

“Stalking around like a vampire-”

“What’s a vampire?”

“-talking to practically no one, acting as if you’re-”

She stopped speaking abruptly, the unspoken word reverberating in her mind. _Free._

“I was so happy,” she muttered, quickening her pace. “I thought I was safe, and I thought- I thought something might go _right,_ for once, and I think I…”

_I think I could have fit in, maybe. I think… I think I would have let you…_

Rey kept moving, and it was only after a dozen or so steps more that she realized she heard only her own feet striking the ground. He was gone when she looked back. “Of course,” she said quietly. “Of course.”

\- - -

Kaydel delayed her on the way from the milking shed, talking with strange earnestness about a particular kind of sauce for chicken. 

And then Poe asked her for a hand catching a stray goat. 

And then Finn stopped her with an odd question about the price of wool in the capital city, and only dropped the matter when Rey stared at him like a deer in headlights. 

In the end, by the time she reached her door the fact that more than one person was inside was very evident. 

“Sweetheart, I know-”

“I don’t care where he’s hidden himself, Han, I don’t want-”

“He’s the only one-”

Normally Rey never would have interrupted an argument- doing so in Jakku would probably have gotten her killed- but Leia’s strident tone somehow sounded heartsick in a way that overrode her better judgment. Rushing inside, Rey found herself face to face with a grizzled older man who met her eyes with an utterly unsurprised expression. 

“Who’s she?” he asked Leia, leaning back against one wall.

“Rey.” Not an answer to the man, but an appeal directly to her. Leia extended a hand, smiling when Rey drew closer and took it. “This unmannerly gentleman is my husband,” she said with wry humor. “Han, Rey has been a great help to me while you were gone.”

“You have a husband?” Rey whispered.

 _You’ll be fine,_ she told herself. _You can sleep somewhere else. On Kaydel’s floor. In the barn. Anywhere._

“He’s gone so often I tend to forget,” Leia replied archly, raising a brow in Han’s direction. “Don’t worry, dear. He’ll be sleeping with the horses.”

“Leia-”

“Or perhaps Chewie will allow him to stay with his family.” She patted Rey’s hand. “Chewie is Malla’s husband. He’s a very nice man.”

She stressed the last words, a message all its own.

Han sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nice to meet you,” he grumbled in Rey’s direction. “The fact that she puts up with you says a lot, you know. Leia’s very picky.”

“I’m just a good judge of character.” Leia- who was not, in Rey’s experience, a hugger- nonetheless drew Rey in with one arm and gave her a brief squeeze. “Most of the time, anyway. Would you please fetch more water from the well?” she asked Rey. “By the time you get back Han and I will have finished our discussion.”

“Leia,” Han groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

“Of course,” Rey said, hurrying for the door and grabbing a bucket on the way. 

The well was only a short distance from Leia’s home, but Rey- normally a fast walker- slowed her pace to give them added time. Not that Leia was likely to need or want it; she had the look of someone who had said her piece and was no longer inclined to debate. 

Rose was by the well when she arrived, hauling a full bucket from the dark depths. “Did you meet Han?” she asked with a quick grin. “His visits are always interesting. Once he brought a chicken so mean that it was in a stew pot within a fortnight.”

Rey’s mouth quirked into a slight smile despite her lingering concern. “Meaner than Hettie?”

“Absolutely bloodthirsty.” Rose hefted her bucket. “Finn still has scars.” She looked to the gradually darkening sky. “We’d both better get inside. I’ll see you in the morning.”

By the time Rey returned Han was at the door, saying something in a low, urgent voice. “We’ll discuss this more tomorrow,” Leia interrupted. “Sleep well, Han.”

Rey half-expected the man to eye her balefully as he passed, but instead he shrugged and gave her a smile that was remarkably kind, under the circumstances. “She’s fun to rile,” he said in seeming explanation, and headed off with a swagger toward the other end of the village.

“He swept me off my feet,” Leia said dryly when Rey looked toward her. “I love him unreasonably, even if he does irritate me beyond understanding, at times. Marriage can be like that.”

Rey entered and set down her burden carefully. “There’s still time for me to stay with someone else,” she offered, uncertain how else to react. “If you want privacy.”

“Not tonight, dear.” Leia began to cut slices from a loaf of bread. “Sit down; we both need to eat.”

They ate in silence, Rey giving her meal the attention it was due. As she ran a scrap of bread around the inside of her bowl to sop up the last of the rabbit stew Leia unexpectedly said, “Our son died.”

The sodden bit of bread dropped from Rey’s fingers into the bowl. 

“Seven years ago, or thereabouts.” Leia pressed her hands flat against the table, her gaze on her half-full bowl. “And after- well, the circumstances of… of Ben’s death are difficult to explain. There were harsh feelings on all sides.”

“I’m sorry,” Rey said softly.

“He was our only child. I was never able to have more.” Leia lifted one shoulder in a kind of shrug. “So now Han travels, and two or three times a year he shows up. Just long enough, usually, for us to enjoy each other before old hurts come to the fore.” She smiled a little bitterly. “Though we didn’t even get that, this time, because the moment he walked in-”

She shook her head. “But that has nothing to do with you,” Leia said firmly. “You have a home with me for as long as you want it.”

Rey blinked back tears. “Thank you.”

“Now, he did bring some very nice woolen fabric, and you need a few more things for the winter.” Leia’s tone was brisk, her eyes bright. “It’s only going to get colder, I’m afraid, and eventually we’ll have snow drifts halfway up the door.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Leia stirred her stew. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

\- - -

_“You don’t remember me when you wake up, do you?”_

_Rey steadfastly kept her back to him. “Does anyone really remember their dreams?”_

_“So you don’t.” Hands curled over her shoulders. “But maybe you will, one day,” he murmured. “Look at me.”_

_“Why should I? All I ever see are shadows.”_

_“If I knew how to fix that I would. Look at me anyway.”_

_With a sigh she turned, tilting her head back to stare at him. “What happened to you, exactly?”_

_“Magic.” He leaned down toward her, the mass of shadows obscuring his features not lightening a jot. “I can see you. I can see you perfectly.”_

_“An unfair advantage,” she murmured._

_“One I would gladly give up.” His hands settled lightly at her waist. “Come find me. Please.”_

\- - -

A shred of something- dream, memory, nightmare- teased Rey’s mind as she slowly woke to a new morning. 

_Come find me. Please._ A quiver to the man’s voice on the last word.

She heard that same _please_ as she washed and dressed, as she ate her morning porridge, as she helped Leia feed the chickens. It tugged at her already bruised heart with a fierceness that unsettled more than irritated her.

“Will you talk now, Sweetheart?”

Rey looked up from the bread she was kneading to see Han giving Leia a hopeful look. “We can’t stay for much longer,” he said. “You know that.”

After a moment Leia nodded, setting her sewing aside. “Very well.”

They were gone long enough for the bread to rise, be punched down, and set to rise again. Rey was stirring the simmering soup when they returned, and at the sight of Leia’s red-rimmed eyes she bristled. “I’ll make some tea,” she said, glaring at Han. “Leia-”

“Thank you, Rey.” Leia gave her husband a long look, one hand cupping his cheek. “I’ll give you my decision in the morning.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He smiled sadly, leaning his head into her palm. “Thank you, Princess.”

Leia watched him go, lingering at the door. “I always hate seeing him leave,” she murmured. “Even when I’m annoyed with him.”

“He made you cry.”

“Oh, I made him cry, too,” Leia replied with an uneven laugh, turning into the room. “He just hides it better. We’ve both done our fair amount of weeping since losing Ben, and today was no exception. And- and I have to admit that his… request… makes a certain amount of sense.” 

“Does he want you to go somewhere?” Rey asked, measuring an herbal blend into the tea pot. 

“No, he knows that I won’t leave the people here. He wants to…”

Leia huffed out a breath, an irritated expression on her face. “He wants to know where to find my brother.”

A son, a husband, a brother. Rey had the brief thought that at any moment a niece would show up at the door. “He doesn’t live here?”

“No. Luke told me, and only me, where he intended to go. Han seems to think that Luke could… could do something to help.”

“Help what?”

Leia shook her head, shoulders straightening. “Nothing for you to worry about,” she said. “Nothing for you to worry about at all. Han will leave in the morning-”

Her voice cracked just a little. “-and he’ll come back next spring, and things will be better then.”

\- - - 

Rey stared up at the ceiling in the dark, turning a ridiculous idea over in her mind. 

Han would be back in the spring. Well after midwinter.

 _You can’t leave the only safe haven you’ve ever known to miss a wedding,_ she told herself grumpily, though she knew that her reasons weren’t quite that cowardly. It wasn’t just the wedding; something else, something nameless, called her on. _Leave with two strangers, at that._

But Leia trusted those two strangers, no matter that her relationship with Han was strained. If they were embarking on a dangerous journey, that was no problem- Rey knew danger, and maybe they could use someone who was sneaky and handy with lockpicks. Her heart would heal a little more with each day on the road, and by the time they returned she would be able to live alongside Kylo and Rose with equanimity. 

_Rose will be pregnant by then,_ came the gloomy thought. _All those long nights inside with the door barred against ghosts… what else would newlyweds do?_

She rolled onto her side, dragging her blanket nearly over her head. She wouldn’t care by that point. She wouldn’t, not the slightest bit, though her mind and body were far too eager to imagine what it might be like to take Rose’s place in that particular marital bed.

Odd how the idea of children seemed far more palatable here than they ever had in Jakku. Rey had attended a birth only a week or so past, the one time she had ever seen Leia leave their home at night. “The forest always makes an exception for babies,” Leia had said as they moved quickly through the dark settlement, several other women falling in behind them. “Even ghosts know that infants refuse to arrive at their mother’s convenience.”

The birth had been long and hard to Rey’s eyes, but the other women had been unfailingly patient and kind- and when the babe had finally come, the new mother had cradled the little girl with an incandescent smile. Her husband had been almost beside himself with joy, tears trickling down his cheeks as he kissed his wife’s brow and delicately caressed his daughter’s cheek. Rey had never seen anything like it. 

And if she had briefly thought of cradling a dark-haired baby in her arms, Kylo’s hand smoothing back her hair, the notion had dispelled quickly enough.

 _Please,_ came that same whisper again. _Please._

“Leia,” she said the next morning, having slept little and thought far too much, “you do trust them?”

Leia settled a shawl around her shoulders, her gaze flicking to Rey. “With my life.”

Rey nodded, not moving from her bed. “Is it dangerous, outside the woods?”

“It can be.” Leia began feeding the fire, her expression grave. “It can be very dangerous.”

“But they always come back?”

Leia hesitated. “Always,” she said eventually. “Thus far.”

And every time they left she resigned herself to never seeing them- him- again. Rey could hear it in her voice. 

“I’d like to go with them.”

Leia turned her head to look toward the fire, one hand clenching into a fist. For what felt like a long time she said nothing. “I’ll speak with Kaydel,” she said finally, standing. “You’re of a size; her winter things will do for you and I’ll make more for her. You’ll want to pack cloth for your courses, and I have an herbal blend you should take.” She pulled a small jar from the cupboard. “To stop a babe from rooting,” she explained, placing the jar on the table. “Neither Han nor Chewie will touch you- they’re honorable men; you _can_ trust them- but you shouldn’t be without. Just in case.”

“Leia-”

“And you should ask one of them to teach you how to handle a knife. A woman should always know how to protect herself. I was planning to teach you this winter, but-”

Leia raised a hand when Rey opened her mouth to speak. “But I don’t have time,” she finished. She crossed the room and knelt beside Rey. “You’ll come home to me in the spring, I hope?” she asked, and if there was grief on her face there was also understanding. “I know how sometimes… sometimes it takes time to settle peacefully. When Ben died I think I walked from one end of the kingdom to another before I was ready to find a place to stop.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, considering Rey. “Even without ill-timed love, I think you still would have needed to walk.”

And she was right. That tug, that itch to move- it was building within her, and Rey didn’t think she could resist it. “No one has ever been kinder to me,” she said softly, and Leia smiled. 

“Then come home when you’re ready,” she replied. “I’ll be waiting.”

\- - -

“No.”

“Oh, yes.” Leia crossed her arms over her chest. “If you want to know where Luke is- or was,” she amended with a shrug, “you’ll take her along with you.”

Chewie, a massive man with a very impressive beard, grinned. “It would be nice to hear new stories,” he said in his deep voice. “I’m tired of Han’s.”

“Ha ha, old man,” Han groused. “Yours aren’t any better.”

Rey shifted slightly, wishing she had a hand free to touch the braids Leia had woven into her hair. “For good luck,” she had explained. “All journeys need a bit of that.” Her own parents hadn’t even given Plutt Rey’s clothing when they had sold her; Leia had provided her with full saddlebags and a thoughtful parting gesture. 

“You’re going to take Rey with you,” Leia said again. “You’re going to find Luke and tell him-”

She seemed to waver briefly. “You’re going to tell him that I miss him. And then you’re going to bring my daughter home.”

Rey was unable to speak. She mouthed the word ‘daughter’ almost quizzically, her grip on the saddlebags beginning to loosen. Leia took them from her hands and handed them to Chewie with a quiet, “If you don’t leave now, you won’t get out of the forest before nightfall.”

Something Leia had said had erased any hint of resistance from Han’s face, leaving behind only echoes of old pain. “Very well, Sweetheart.”

When Leia stepped forward he wrapped her in his arms, and for a long moment Rey could see them as they had been: an immovable force, a power to be reckoned with. Leia lifted to her toes and whispered something in Han’s ear.

“Be careful,” Leia murmured as they broke apart, and Han nodded. “And you,” she said, turning to Rey and stroking her hair, “you need to be careful, too.”

“I will.” Rey didn’t know what else to say. The word ‘mother’ couldn’t quite pass her tongue, though she wanted to say it. ‘Mother’ still meant the woman who had traded her for money- but that might change. Someday. 

They left the village as the last wisps of early morning fog burned off in the sun. Rey risked a look back despite her uncertain balance in the saddle, taking in Leia’s encouraging smile for as long as she could before the forest closed in behind them. 

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Kylo, standing tall among a thick clump of trees off the trail. “Good luck,” Rey breathed in his direction, and turned her gaze stalwartly forward.


	4. discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers, your enthusiasm gives me life. Thank you!

The further they went into the forest, the heavier the atmosphere. Rey clung grimly to the saddle, her shoulders bowed under the weight of what felt like a hundred watchful eyes. Her horse- a dun mare who clearly sensed Rey’s ineptitude in the saddle- kept side-stepping skittishly with meaningful snorts.

“Not much of a rider?” Han asked eventually, watching her over his shoulder.

Rey cursed her immediate blush. “I’ve only ridden a few times,” she admitted, thinking of the lessons Finn and Poe had given her on one exceptionally lazy gelding. “We didn’t have horses where I grew up.”

She did her best to say the words as Leia might have said them, mimicking that dry, regal air she sometimes used, and was rewarded with a crooked grin. “Not many places like that.” Both Han and Chewie slowed their horses until Rey rode between them. “Where was it?”

Her mare seemed more content between its kin, and Rey was able to relax slightly with the smoother gait. “The desert,” she answered, still remembering the exact feel of wind-borne sand against her skin. The dazzling heat, the night-time chill- Rey doubted she would ever forget either. 

“Ahh.” Chewie nodded his head. “The forest took you, then. Malla suspected that was the case.”

Leia had said that people sometimes appeared in the woods, but she had never embroidered on that statement. At the time, Rey had been too fearful of opening a Pandora’s box of questions to ask for further information. Looking up at the towering trees around them- trees that had somehow snatched her from a different world, trees that Rey owed her new life to- she thought on what else Leia had said: _you can trust them._

“Maybe,” Rey said after a moment. “I don’t quite remember that part; I was ill.”

“These woods have always been uncanny, even before the reign of Queen Padmé,” Chewie explained. “The tales of her husband’s ghost are the most popular, but that bit of history is within living memory.”

Rey sat up a bit straighter. “Really? When Leia told me that story-”

Han made a low sound of surprise, and when she looked to him he shook his head with a grumbled, “She doesn’t usually tell that one.”

“The death of Anakin Skywalker was only fifty-odd years ago.” Chewie patted his horse’s neck fondly. “Han and I were mere boys at the time. Old enough to fear the possibility of war, but young enough to find tales of magic fascinating.”

“Is it true? About the border?” Rey asked. She wasn’t surprised that Leia’s story was a true one- how could she be surprised, after personally hearing the weeping in the woods- but knowing that it had happened so recently, relatively speaking, was jarring.

“Last attempt was fifteen years ago,” Han muttered, sounding as if he were extremely reluctant to reply. “No one’s tried since.”

“Doesn’t stop people coming in or going out, but the border still knows the feel of an army. And Skywalker returned here, where he was born and where magic is thickest.” Chewie pointed to the west. “Several hours in that direction, though his home village doesn’t exist anymore. Raiders.”

No one had ever said anything about raiders in the woods, and that thought must have shown on her face. “No raiders now,” Chewie assured her. “After Skywalker died, the woods became more… selective… about who they allowed inside.”

That seemed to line up with what little Rey knew. “Leia said something about a dispensation?”

“One way of putting it.” Han met her eyes briefly. “The woods don’t like raiders. They like Leia.” He shrugged. “And they like you, apparently.”

When Rey frowned, feeling as if she now had far more questions than answers, he chuckled. “Like Chewie said, the woods are uncanny. Always have been. And they wouldn’t have stolen you from your desert unless they felt you would be better off here.”

“Or more useful,” Chewie added. “Don’t glare at me, Han. The girl deserves to know.”

“That the woods might have a- a job for me?” A purpose, even, and if she felt anxiety over that realization she also felt a kind of awe. That Rey- nothing and no one, as Plutt had spent years telling her- might have been specifically chosen for anything was beyond her comprehension.

“Balance,” Chewie said. “The magic of Alderaan can’t abide imbalance, so the old stories say. When darkness rises, light must also rise to meet it- and if that light can’t be found within Alderaan’s borders, the woods, the magic, they’re not above a little bit of kidnapping.”

Darkness and light. It sounded familiar- _too_ familiar, as if she had lived this conversation before, and the phrase _I’m in the wrong story_ echoed in her mind like memory. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Han told her flatly. “Chewie’s a romantic; if you let him continue he’ll have you half-convinced that the woods snatched you to face down Snoke with just the power of a pure heart.”

A purpose was one thing. Rey was ready and willing to dedicate herself to contributing to her community, to caring for others, but what Han described sounded uncomfortably like a _destiny_. “I don’t have a pure heart,” she protested, her hands squeezing around the reins. 

“Purer than most, would be my guess.” Han raised a hand defensively when she looked his way. “I’m not going to bundle you off to the capital. If the woods want you to go on a quest, they’ll get you there.” He paused, watching her with a surprising amount of sympathy. “No one would give you a hard time if you went back to the village.”

Rey seriously considered doing just that. She would arrive by the noon meal, slip back into her routine and likely never leave its boundaries again. She would tend the garden, care for Leia in her old age, perhaps even become the village midwife…

“I can’t,” she said, both words clear and crisp. “I-”

Rey sighed, feeling clearly the tug that led her on. “I have something to do,” she finished sourly. 

“Huh.” Han laughed quietly. “No wonder Leia likes you. Well, if anyone can help you with _that_ it would be Luke.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he’s one of the last living mages,” Chewie answered, sounding amused. “One of the few that escaped King Snoke’s purge.”

Rey considered her newest tidbits of information- _kings and magicians and destinies, oh my_ \- and with the overwhelming sense that she had stumbled into something far bigger than herself said faintly, “Right.”

\- - -

They left the woods as the sun set over the plains beyond, honey-gold light gilding grass and trees. A perfect sunset, unlike any Rey had ever seen, and she would have appreciated it much more if it weren’t for the bone-deep ache she felt from the waist down. “Careful,” Chewie said as she dismounted and landed on shaky feet. “Did Leia send any liniment with you?”

“Yes.” And God, Rey was thankful for it. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Not tonight.” He started to clear a spot for a fire. “We’re used to the saddle, you’re not. Use that liniment and walk until you feel steadier.”

It helped, at least a little, until she woke up the next morning feeling as if Plutt had taken a strap to her. Gritting her teeth at both real and remembered pain ( _not here, never again_ ), Rey stood and faced the day.

She did so the next day, and the next, and the next, pushing through the reality of aching muscles as her seat and endurance slowly improved. If she occasionally looked toward odd shadows among stands of trees, it was for naught: the woods they passed through were full of odd shadows, and not a one of those shadows was Kylo.

 _Stop,_ she told herself after the fifth quick turn of her head. _Stop._

And maybe she would have stopped if it weren’t for the dreams. Every morning she rose with thready memories of a deep voice murmuring in her ear and a large hand reaching for her own, and every morning she found herself looking to the north as they moved further east. Why, she wasn’t sure- the village lay in the south, not the north, and surely she was dreaming of Kylo. Surely.

 _Shouldn’t be,_ she told herself as she swung into the saddle over a week in. _He’s engaged, for fuck’s sake._

Engaged or not, she thought of him when Han and Chewie’s banter fell silent. She thought of Leia, the word ‘mother’, and how that same word was tainted by betrayal. She thought of magic and her thieving self pulled from one universe to another, and wondered whether that same magic would throw her back to Jakku if she failed to accomplish whatever purpose it had in mind for her. All told, Rey had far too much time for thinking in general, and that included keeping a very watchful eye on their food stores. 

As they crested yet another hill on a particularly overcast day, Rey commented as casually as possible, “We’ll have to stop for supplies soon, won’t we?”

She had no issue with the way they were purposefully avoiding people and settlements, but a familiar anxiety had made itself at home in the pit of her stomach. 

“We’re almost to the first safe spot.” Chewie nodded toward what was barely a speck on the horizon. “Maz will replenish our stock, and we’ll all get a safe bed and a hot bath in the bargain.”

The idea of a hot bath distracted Rey from her anxiety and filled her with almost palpable lust. A bath. A _bath_. Rey might very well sell her soul for a bath, at that point, and the anticipation buoyed her spirits as they pushed on even after the fading of daylight. 

It couldn’t possibly be a typical inn, Rey realized as they rode into the courtyard. “Is this…?”

Han huffed a laugh. “A castle? Once. Maz won it in a sabacc game.” He rubbed his hands together, expression turning serious. “If she asks you a question, tell the truth. Otherwise let me do the talking… and don’t stare. At anyone.”

Easier said than done, but Rey did her best to keep her gaze straight ahead as they entered. Nearly everyone briefly flicked a glance their way in an assessing fashion, but few stares lingered. It was, she sensed, similar to Leia’s community: a gathering point for those who had nowhere else to go, a relatively safe spot in a tumultuous land. It could only be ruled by the tiny woman standing on a box behind the bar, surveying the full room with a proprietary and satisfied air. 

That same woman raised a brow when she spotted their small party headed toward her. “Bringing trouble to my door again, Han?” she asked, flashing Chewie what appeared to be an amiable come-hither look. He ignored it.

“Hardly trouble,” Han replied. His smile was so charming that Rey belatedly understood Leia’s claim that he had swept her off her feet. “Just here for a peaceful night’s sleep and some supplies, that’s all.”

Maz’s laugh was sharp, if genuine enough. “For once I wasn’t talking about you.” She beckoned at Rey. “Come here, girl. Let me have a look.”

“She’s Leia’s daughter, Maz,” Chewie said, almost in warning, and one corner of her mouth quirked upward as Rey drew near. 

“More and more interesting.” Planting her hands on the bar, she leaned forward and considered Rey carefully. “Daughter of her heart, perhaps,” Maz said in an off-hand fashion, staring directly into Rey’s eyes. “But you…hmm.”

She hopped off her box and waved for them to follow, bustling past even more customers until they reached a quieter hall beyond. “You’ll need rooms,” she said briskly, signaling a nearby maid. “Once you’re clean and fed we’ll sit down for a talk.”

“Maz-” Han tried to interject, but she shook her head. 

“We need to talk,” she insisted quietly but no less firmly. Maz looked at Rey for a long moment, then added, “I’ve seen eyes like that before.”

\- - -

It was only after Rey had finished her (heavenly) bath that she realized a very important fact: she had nothing to wear save a borrowed shift, because the maid had taken away every stitch of her clothing to be washed. Rey planted her hands on her hips in irritation, well aware that despite the voluminous dimensions of the garment wearing it and it alone outside her room would be the kind of unspoken invitation she wanted to avoid. With a huff she plopped down at the small table near the fire, only somewhat consoled by the generous tray waiting for her. 

“Clearly I’m not invited to the meeting,” she muttered after a bite of buttered bread. She might have essentially invited herself along on this particular journey, and she might be a stranger to their hostess, but Rey disliked missing out on important information- and she disliked even more how ominous Maz’s comment about her eyes had sounded, even if Han had immediately scoffed. 

And there was something about this place, something that piqued her scavenger instincts and made her long to do some exploratory snooping.

Still.

 _Asking for trouble,_ she reminded herself, and reiterated that piece of wisdom when she checked the lock after dinner. At least she had a fire, and a full belly, and a bed- though even as small as the bed was, she nonetheless felt as if someone else should be sharing it with her. 

\- - -

_It was a quiet dream. Him and her, strolling down endless halls arm in arm. No rush, no panic, only the occasional murmured word and his arm warm under her hand._

_“I didn’t bring you here,” he said at one point, his tone apologetic. The walls on either side of them flickered, revealing disjointed images: a tall man pausing on a road, looking over his shoulder at a stone pillar with an expression of cold malice. An unconscious woman half-hidden under hay in a cart. A luxurious bed, the occupant covered with cobwebs._

_“I know.” Rey was beginning to understand a great deal in her dreams. “And I didn’t bring myself here.”_

_He bent his head toward hers, his veil of shadows drifting over her left eye and obscuring her vision. “I’m not doing this, either.”_

_And Rey- as actual cold pierced her skin and the sense that something was not quite right caused the halls to blur at the edges- answered calmly, “I know that, too.”_

\- - -

Rey blinked, sleep-fuzzed eyes focusing on a pile of clutter she had never seen before even as her bare feet registered the iciness of the stark stone floor. 

“I thought so.”

She whirled, staring uncomprehendingly at Maz. 

“Those eyes- forest eyes.” Maz walked further into the room, stopping barely a foot from Rey. “For a child of the desert, your soul resonates with green and growing things, doesn’t it?”

“I…”

“And here you are, coming for Padmé’s dagger.” Maz nodded at the pile behind Rey, who reluctantly turned. Books, chipped pottery, other odds and ends, and on top of it all a tarnished knife. “Anakin holds the border, the forest. Padmé, though- she remembers her people and her family.”

Present tense. “But there’s a king,” Rey said numbly. “Her… son?”

“Padmé died after Leia attained her majority.”

Her feet, her body, her heart- Rey felt as if everything had turned to ice. “What?”

“The man who calls himself king took the throne by trickery.” Maz stepped around her and picked up the dagger, balancing it on her palms like an offering. “A very persuasive man, Snoke. Through forgery, false witness, and his own brand of magic, he convinced an entire kingdom that Leia’s son was prophesied to burn Alderaan to the ground.” She regarded Rey with utmost calm. “Every citizen, baying for their blood.”

“ _What?_ ” Rey sank down to sit on a nearby crate. “But Leia… she can’t be a queen,” she protested, the words sounding absurd aloud. “She lives in the _woods._ ”

“Everyone knows- or knew- what Queen Leia looks like. The King, not so much.” Maz smiled a little wryly. “Han was just as eager to be in the public eye then as he is now.”

It was clear from Maz’s stance that she expected Rey to claim the dagger as her own. Rey- too shocked to do anything so grand- kept her hands folded on her lap, toes curled against the floor. 

“You don’t like the word ‘daughter’, do you?” Maz asked unexpectedly. “You winced when Chewie called you that, just a little bit.”

Rey’s throat was painfully tight, but she still managed to say “Daughters are expendable.”

Her own personal history had taught her that. Her mother’s stories had reinforced the lesson, to a certain extent: before there could be a happy ending there had to be a pea, or time in servitude to Baba Yaga, or seven shirts woven from hand-spun nettles. Fairy tales held no easy roads, and absurdly she seemed to be in one. 

“I think you’ve been waiting for them to come back for you.”

Rey ducked her head to hide the inevitable tears, biting back harsh words. She had fantasized that exact scenario far too often, her yearning seeking out every outlet imaginable. Her parents, arriving with cash in hand or a posse of federal agents or a damn army, all to reclaim _her._ “I’m no fool,” she muttered, hands cupping her elbows. 

“Foolishness and pain can be two different things.” Maz’s voice gentled as she took a step closer. “They won’t come back, but someone else still might.”

Rey wanted to ask why she should care about Leia’s brother coming home, but she knew the answer. It mattered because of Leia. 

Who was the Queen.

“Take this.” Maz proffered the weapon. “You’ll know what to do when the time is right.”

That concept was far too amorphous for Rey’s comfort, but magic or instinct or something equally unknown had her reaching for the dagger. “I’m no one,” she said helplessly as cool metal warmed against her skin. 

“I really doubt that,” Maz replied in a comforting tone that in no way matched the weight of the moment, and escorted her back to bed.

\- - -

Maz did not see them off in the morning, though they did leave with replenished supplies and clean clothing, the dagger at Rey’s hip. 

“I’ll show you how to polish it,” was all Han said when he noted her new accessory, and if he recognized the hilt he kept any comments to himself. Rey, still in an almost shocked state of acceptance, nearly blurted out _So you’re a king, then?_ but resisted the urge. 

Besides, just one look at him had given her the answer. 

It was a quiet travel day, and by the time they made camp Rey was thoroughly ready for the oblivion of sleep. _I’m done with surprises,_ she thought wearily as she knelt by a nearby stream, splashing cold water on her face. 

“You left,” said a familiar voice from behind her, and- startled- she overbalanced and fell into the shallow water.


	5. rabbits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Thank you for continuing to stick with me on Rey's journey of "what the hell is going on; no, seriously, tell me."

Scrambling out of chillingly cold water, Rey tried to shake feeling back into her numb hands as she spat out a curse in Russian. 

“Was that bad?” Kylo asked warily from his spot under yet another tree. She scowled in his direction, her mood souring further when a sharp breeze tugged at her damp clothing. 

“It was physically impossible,” she said between clenched teeth, casting a glance in the direction of the camp. The last thing she wanted was for Han and Chewie to decide she needed rescuing. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.” 

He spoke quietly, an undercurrent of emotion she couldn’t quite decipher in his voice: deeper than mere sadness, and so raw her shivers were no longer due to just the cold. It was almost enough to make her soften- almost. 

There was Rose to consider, after all. Genuinely kind Rose, who hadn’t asked for any of this. Rey’s anger spiked. “How _dare_ you.” She stepped closer to him, her hands clenching into fists. “You abandon your betrothed, stalk me for days on end, and now- what? I’m supposed to throw myself into your arms because you _missed_ me?”

“What betrothed?” he asked quizzically, the question barely registering as her heated words continued unchecked. 

“How can I even go back to the village now?” she hissed. “How can I go back to Leia? Someone will eventually make the connection, and I’ll be some… some home-wrecker who everyone avoids at the well!”

“I’m not engaged.”

He almost sounded amused, the bastard, and with a snarl she grabbed a pebble from the ground and threw it in his direction. “Go home.”

“I can’t.”

“If you could get all the way out here you can damn well find your way back to the village.” Cold and wet and utterly pissed, Rey raised a hand in warning when he shifted. “Stay. Just… just stay.”

Both Han and Chewie gave her a long look when she came crashing through the brush toward the camp. “Problem?” Han asked as he stood, his attention moving to the forest behind her. 

“I tripped,” Rey said in a clipped tone, sitting beside the fire in the hopes that her clothing would at least partially dry before bed. 

Chewie began walking toward the creek, following the path of trampled plants. Rey drew her knees up to her chest, staring into the flickering flames as she waited to hear evidence of his inevitable meeting with Kylo. 

_Just don’t invite him along,_ she thought, sending a general plea to the universe. _Let him walk back home and freeze._

“You’ve been quiet, today,” Han said, slowly resuming his seat. “Did Maz say something to upset you?”

To her horror she felt her throat grow tight- _don’t cry, don’t you dare cry_ \- and hurriedly seized on the first distraction she could think of. “King Han, huh?”

Han groaned, mumbling a tortured “ _Maz._ ”

“We had a very unsettling discussion. That was one of the least important bits, really.” Rey laughed, the sound bitter. “And I… I just let her talk with barely a question.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, asking gruffly, “Did she come to your room?”

“No. I was sleepwalking.” Rey paused, then added in a murmur, “I’ve never done that before.”

“I figured something like this would happen.” Han paused, his gaze distant. “First, none of that ‘king’ bollocks,” he said finally. “‘King’ is usually a courtesy title in Alderaan, anyway- everyone knows the Queen is the true monarch. Second, what do you know about using a dagger?”

“The pointy end goes in your opponent.”

He sighed, closing his eyes as if the true weight of their situation had just made itself known. “Can’t wait to see how you get on with Luke,” he muttered, and then an odd kind of grief appeared on his face. 

“What?” Rey asked, feeling a pinch of anxiety.

Han shrugged. “Just… Ben would have liked you.” He opened his eyes, looking older than he had for the entirety of their short journey. “He would have liked you a great deal.”

It wasn’t until she was tucked in her bedroll on the verge of sleep that she realized something odd: as best she could tell, Chewie hadn’t crossed paths with Kylo.

 _Just good at hiding,_ she thought drowsily. _Fucker._

\- - -

“I hear Maz gave you a scare,” Chewie said the next morning as they saddled their horses, and she nodded in reply. Not looking at all surprised, he continued. “Maz has a bit of the uncanny herself, though she’s careful about who she shows that side to.”

She considered him over the back of Astra, her mare, buckling clasps with only recently found ease. “Who were you? Before?”

“Master of the Guard.” Chewie watched her gravely. “And you?”

They all had sharply defined befores and afters, Rey mused. “My parents sold me when I was five. My… he enjoyed having someone around that the police- the guards- would overlook.” She smiled wryly. “I’m very accomplished at picking pockets and locks.”

“The latter is occasionally a useful skill.” He didn’t seem at all perturbed by her past, which was a relief. “Han and I have gotten out of many a scrape with a handy lockpick. We’ll have to procure a set for you.”

Rey finished tightening the girth strap, then tentatively asked, “Do you think I was brought here just to find Leia’s brother?” 

Chewie frowned thoughtfully, and she rushed to explain. “Maz said that someone could still come back. She must have been talking about Luke, right?”

“That,” he said slowly, “or returning Leia to her throne.”

She touched the hilt of the dagger, her stomach roiling. “I’m not very keen on the idea of committing regicide.”

“Nor should you be.” Chewie reached easily over Astra’s back, laying a hand on her shoulder. “That’s why we wanted to find Luke in the first place,” he revealed, voice dropping low. “He’s the only person alive who could possibly face Snoke and win. The people realized years ago that they had been fooled; if he’s done away with and Leia returns…”

“Are they so fickle?”

He gently squeezed her shoulder before drawing his hand away. “His persuasive magics were convincing- _very_ convincing. There were moments when even I half-believed them, and I had known Ben since the day of his birth.” He shook his head. “I can’t blame those who were wholly taken in. They’ve more than paid over the past thirteen years.”

Rey, who had been combing her fingers through Astra’s mane as she listened, focused on him. “Leia said seven.”

“Since Ben died.” Chewie’s expression briefly turned dark. “The whispers, though- those started fifteen years ago. Whispers became rumor, which became so-called fact, and shortly after Ben’s seventeenth birthday he was sent into hiding. Leia managed to hold the throne for only a season more before Han made her leave.”

Despite the gravity of the subject matter she felt her lips twitch into a slight smile at the idea of anyone making Leia do anything. “How?”

“He drugged her wine and abducted her.” Chewie raised a brow, a small smile of his own appearing on his face. “Snuck her out in a bedamned hay cart, of all things.”

Han, who had been attending to his own needs in the woods, returned in time to hear Chewie’s last words. “It worked,” he said defensively. “A mob was marching on the gates, the army was on the verge of attempting a coup- do you know what they would have done to her, if she had stayed? The kingdom executed child-killers with more mercy than they would have shown her.”

“True enough,” Chewie acknowledged, nodding his head. “I would have done much the same if you had decided to stay.”

Rey could almost see Leia pouring over strategy after strategy in her castle, resolved to stay until the bitter end, only to find herself waking groggily in a pile of hay. _She must have been furious._

“I loved her too much to let her die,” Han muttered to Rey after they had set off, clearly caught up in his own memories. “I still do.” 

“I think she knows that,” Rey offered carefully. 

“Oh, she does.” His crooked grin was unable to displace the sorrow written across his face. “But I still betrayed her, and Leia doesn’t easily forget that kind of thing.”

No, she wouldn’t. Rey surveyed the landscape in front of them, unsure if she should take a certain amount of relief in these latest revelations. She wanted- _needed_ \- the information, but she couldn’t deny that she had enjoyed how simple her context-free life had been.

“She still loves you,” Rey said finally. “And she misses you.”

Han nodded, looking neither surprised nor particularly happy. “I know.”

\- - -

Each day that passed brought on new proof of winter’s arrival, until finally Rey woke to her first snow flurrying lazily from the sky. Her sense of wonder lasted until that afternoon, by which time flurries had thickened to persistent snow showers. “How do we camp in this?” she asked Chewie, wrapping her cloak more firmly around herself.

“Uncomfortably,” he replied with disgusting cheer. “But we’ll arrive in Ahch-To tomorrow, so you won’t have to endure it long.”

“I’m not that worried.” Rey lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug, already uncomfortable but knowing she had experienced worse. “Do you spend every winter traveling?”

“Yes.” His horse, Kashyyyk, whickered, and Han’s Falcon echoed the noise. “We don’t have a circuit, per se, but there are certain places we typically visit at this time of year.”

Rey tugged her hood further down her forehead, considering her next question. “You don’t travel just for the joy of it, do you?” Or even to maintain distance between Han and his estranged wife, though Rey had no intention of saying that aloud. “You’re Leia’s eyes and ears.”

“That’s part of it,” Han admitted after a moment. “She still loves the people- still considers them ‘hers’ in many ways. Unfortunately, the news we bring her is invariably bad.”

Chewie added, “And when we’re able, we lend a discrete hand to those in need.” He shook his head, mouth set in a grim line. “Plenty of those, and more everyday.”

They entered a small wood, the horses’ hooves muffled by the snow. Rey opened her mouth to ask another question, and then quickly snapped it shut when she spotted the impossible: a figure directly ahead of them, standing in a spill of dark shadow.

Kylo. Kylo, who had somehow outpaced them despite his seeming lack of a mount. Kylo, waiting in plain sight- and incredibly, Han and Chewie said nothing. 

Han, in fact, continued to ride unerringly toward him. 

“Please.” Kylo’s voice was perfectly audible, but she seemed to be the only one who could hear him. Her confusion, though, had caught her companions’ attention, both of them watching her with expressions of mild concern. “Please, let me explain.”

They were almost even with him, and she could see his clothing, his form perfectly- but not his face. She had never seen his face, and here they were mere feet away and she _still_ couldn’t see his face, and Han- Han rode straight through him without even the slightest bit of hesitation.

Rey twisted in her saddle to stare back, her horse carrying on without regard to her rider’s strange behavior. 

“I didn’t want to scare you,” Kylo said in a low, apologetic tone. He began walking after them. “I didn’t know how to explain.”

Chewie’s hand gently grasped her elbow. “Rey?”

 _I’m scaring them,_ a part of her realized, but their concern barely registered at that moment. They entered a small, sunlit clearing, and behind them Kylo briefly hesitated, the toes of his boots brushing the edge of the shadows.

“Rey, what is it?” Han asked insistently in a low tone, sounding as if he were seconds away from drawing his weapon.

“A rabbit,” she answered distractedly.

Kylo, who had been shifting his weight nervously, chuckled in a humorless fashion. “Hardly.” 

He stepped forward into the light. 

_Bigger than I thought,_ was her first reaction, mouth dry. 

Her second was inarticulate horror. Living, rippling veils of black obscured his face, refusing her even a glimpse of his features. He walked quickly in their wake, shadows flowing behind and twining around his upper arms.

Numb, she turned to stare straight ahead, every memory of him suddenly set in a new and confusing light. 

“Must have been some rabbit,” Chewie attempted to joke as he examined the woods behind them, releasing her elbow. 

“Yeah,” she managed, hands clenched too tightly around the reins. Astra made a discontented nicker, her gait briefly choppy. 

_I’m the only one who can see him._

“Wait.” Kylo caught up to them, taking position between her horse and Chewie’s. The shadows covering his face flickered, almost seeming to drift toward her knee. “Please. I need your help.”

_I’m the only one who could ever see him._

Kylo’s hand closed around her calf, impossibly real in spite of the evidence otherwise. “ _Please._ ”

His grip dissolved into nothing, and against her better instincts she glanced back. Just snow and trees and brush, with no hint of the man whose _please_ resonated on a bone-deep level. 

_Because he was always disappearing,_ she thought, mind and body caught in a stasis born of shock. _Always in the shadows, always watching me._

Not a ghost, because surely a ghost wouldn’t feel so incredibly solid. A ghost wouldn’t have been able to grab her leg, or-

Her knees squeezed reflexively at Astra’s sides, bringing the mare to a halt. Han and Chewie stopped a few seconds later, both of them watching her cautiously. “Rey,” Han said firmly, his tone demanding attention she couldn’t quite give. Her arrival in the forest; those fragments of memory: _quiet, little one_ , shivering against someone’s chest, warm hands clasping her shoulders from behind.

“Rey,” Han said again, snapping his fingers. When she looked up, startled, he nodded with relief. “Last time I saw someone with a look like that, I was traveling with Luke through an old battlefield.” He paused, considering her. “Maybe he was seeing the same kind of rabbits?”

The question was a surprisingly delicate one, inspiring a very real gratitude despite her overall numbness. “Maybe,” she said after a moment. Chewie glanced to Han, then back to her, keeping silent. “Luke sees… rabbits?”

 _Tall, fit rabbits?_

Rey repressed a nervous giggle, beginning to shiver in a way that had little to do with the cold.

“Sometimes.” Han surveyed the woods around them, brow furrowed. “Can you ride for a few more hours?”

“Yes.” She patted Astra’s neck in apology. _Rabbits._ “I can do that.”

It was at least a half an hour before she stopped shivering. 

An hour after that, shock was eclipsed by reluctant curiosity. 

By the time they made camp, Rey’s need to understand was more powerful than her lingering fear and anger.

\- - -

“Can you hear me?”

Rey turned in a slow circle, keeping her voice hushed. She was further from the camp than she should be, in terms of safety, but she didn’t want Han or Chewie catching her talking to thin air. “I want an explanation.”

Nothing- and then an almost physical reverberation to her right, something soundless and yet undeniable. “Rabbits,” she muttered in annoyance, moving cautiously toward the unknown source. After twenty or so feet the woods gave way to another clearing, one that dipped inward and formed a shallow depression. Just snow and sunlight, but something about it tempted her onward even as undefinable wrongness throbbed like a mental bruise. As she stood at the boundary of the trees, unable to leave or to continue on, an arm wrapped around her from behind. 

“Some places remember more than others,” Kylo murmured, the timbre of his voice honey-sweet to her ears. His other hand closed gently around her shoulder, leaving them in a distinctly lover-like stance. “This place wants to trap you.”

Whatever was trying to coax her into the clearing paled in comparison to the far greater temptation standing behind her. “You’re warm,” she murmured as heat from his body and breath soaked into her skin. Her impossible sort-of-stalker, invisible to every eye but hers. 

_I should be angry,_ she reminded herself. _I should be furious._

Somehow, she wasn’t- and whether that was because of sheer fatigue or a diminishing capacity for giving a fuck, Rey wasn’t sure. 

“I’m not dead.”

She didn’t turn. It was easier to have this conversation without seeing the void where his face should be. “You were in the woods when I arrived.”

“I was.” He drew her back step by step until the clearing was no longer in view. “Before that I was nowhere.”

“But you’re not dead.”

“Sleeping, though not in the normal sense.” What might have been his nose brushed against the curve of her ear in what might have been a tentative nuzzle. “Sleeping for so long, and then I was in the woods and there you were.” She could almost hear his smile in the satisfaction that crept into his tone. “My first waking, you could say. I’m hoping for a second.”

“Can you see anyone else?” she asked, resting a hand against the arm that banded her waist. 

“Just you.”

Rey took in a breath as a new and desperate longing for simple village life filled her to aching. “Why am I here?”

To shake him awake? To restore a Queen to her throne? To bring home a missing sibling?

She didn’t like the frustrated, almost broken note in her voice, and judging by the way his embrace tightened neither did he. “You aren’t a slave to this.” He turned them until they faced away from the clearing, and she let her eyelids flutter closed. “You aren’t bound to this path, and nothing will send you back unwilling.”

“But you do want me to wake you up.”

There was a brief pause, and then he whispered a trembling “ _Please._ ”

His warmth, his utter solidity evaporated, leaving her standing alone amidst the falling snow. Behind her the throbbing cavity that was the clearing called, all dark insistence.

_Please._

Rey began to walk back to the camp, the word echoing in her mind. _Please. Please. Please._


	6. a gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your continued support keeps me going, dear readers. Thank you so much.

“Are you controlling this?” 

To her relief, neither Han nor Chewie, who were riding ahead, heard her barely audible words. 

“No,” Kylo answered, his tone thoughtful. “Perhaps it’s influenced by how much I want to see you.”

He had a hand wrapped around her booted calf again, though whether it was meant as a kind of anchor or simply because he desired to touch her she wasn’t sure. That she wanted the latter felt unfair- to him, and not only to her. 

A night’s unsettled sleep had put the situation into bleak context for Rey. _I’m the only person he’s seen in years,_ she had thought more than once, memories of playing least-in-sight by necessity giving rise to unexpected empathy. It was hard to hate him for his subterfuge, not when his past actions were beginning to look a great deal like that of someone trying not to scare away a skittish cat. Of course he would want human connection. Any human connection.

Even a connection with Rey. 

“You didn’t remember me when I first appeared after your illness,” he continued. “It didn’t seem appropriate to explain my strange circumstances at the time.”

“Or any other time,” she muttered, still mildly annoyed by that particular truth, and when he replied his voice was sheepish.

“You were talking to me. It had been so long since I had spoken with anyone… and I was a little afraid you would never speak to me again, if you knew.”

Her lonely shadow. She glanced covertly down at his bare hand, noting for the first time that his clothing was really too light for the weather she was experiencing. “You don’t feel the cold, do you?”

“I see the snow, but I can’t feel it. I can see your horse and other people, but only when you touch them. Just as you’re the only person I can see, you’re also all I can touch.”

She could tell that he hadn’t intended his words as innuendo, but her body certainly chose to interpret them as such. Beneath heavy layers her nipples hardened, an ache building between her thighs. Rey hoped her blush wasn’t too evident. “Have you been in my dreams?”

“Yes.” A pause. “I can’t control that, either.”

Jumbled memories had begun to resurface ever since seeing his true form. She was still trying to put them in a kind of order, feeling as if a time-line might somehow give her more clarity. “You said my name once. You haven’t since.”

“I shouldn’t have,” he said, sounding disappointed in himself in a way that was not new. He had thought on this, and often. “When I was initially cursed someone watched my dreams. I haven’t felt their presence in a very long time, but I can’t risk them learning your name.”

“You’re not really Kylo, then.”

“No,” he said at the same time Han beckoned her forward, calling out, “We’re close!”

Astra’s pace quickened, forcing Kylo to jog alongside to keep up. “Saying my real name might catch their attention,” he explained, keeping his grip on her leg. “Which would, in turn, endanger you.”

There was no way for her to respond without alerting Han and Chewie. All she could do was let one gloved hand casually drop from the reins and briefly brush over his shoulder, passing through wispy shadows. 

_Why?_ she remembered her tiny self interrupting midway through Rumpelstiltskin. 

_Because names have power,_ her mother had answered with an irritated sigh. _Listen._

He was gone in an instant, the warmth left by his hand disappearing with him. 

“Luke can be grumpy,” Han was saying. “Try not to be offended.”

A mountain loomed ahead, craggy and largely treeless. “Are we going to the top?”

Chewie nodded. “There’s a monastery near the peak. We’ll have to lead the horses most of the way.”

It was a tough slog upward, though they were able to keep to a rough if icy cart path for the entirety of the journey. By the time a cluster of stone huts came into view Rey was longing for a chance to sit down anywhere that was warm and dry. 

A woman in thick robes gave them all a quick once-over, looking less than thrilled by the prospect of guests. “On a pilgrimage, are you?”

“We’re here for Master Skywalker,” Han explained, and she huffed in clear annoyance. 

“He’s wandering the cliffs.” Her gaze softened as she examined the horses. “Leave the poor beasts here; they’ll be no use to you above.”

Rey tried not to feel envious of Astra as her horse was led away, and almost managed it. Almost. 

“Figures,” Han muttered as they pressed on. “Luke’s always been skilled at torturing himself.”

_Charming,_ Rey wanted to say, but was too cold for sarcasm.

They found him nearly a half-hour later, cloaked against the wind and facing away toward the sea. 

“Luke.”

Slowly, the other man turned, lifting one hand to push back his hood. Graying and heavily bearded, there at first seemed to be little of Leia in him- but there was, Rey noted, something about his eyes that struck her as familiar.

“Han,” Luke replied, sounding as if he rarely spoke. He nodded toward Chewie, seeming to ignore her entirely. “If Leia thinks I can perform a miracle, she’s made an error in judgment.”

Han shrugged. “I did her a favor, she did me a favor…”

Chewie coughed, clearly repressing a laugh. Luke simply rolled his eyes.

“And we traveled all this way.” Han broke into a coaxing grin. “Surely you can spare some time for family.”

“Not if you’re here to persuade me into facing down an army by myself,” Luke grumbled, but began making his way toward them nonetheless. “Save your smiles for my sister.”

“Han always has a smile for everyone,” Chewie said with amusement, slapping Luke on the back when he came into reach. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

A glimmer of fondness peaked through, easing Luke’s grim features slightly. “How have you put up with him for all this time?”

“As a kindness. I could hardly foist him off on someone else.”

Han muttered something as the pair passed him by, but he still slung an arm companionably around Rey’s shoulders. “Not too bad,” he said quietly, steering her in their wake. “We’ll get him drunk and you can discuss rabbits.”

As they walked another pair of footsteps fell in behind them, fingers catching her cloak. Anyone could see, if they cared to look, that the fabric puckered unnaturally at her back. 

She waited for Kylo to speak, but he never said a word. 

\- - -

Han might have been intent on dulling Luke’s wits with alcohol, but instead their unwilling host pawned them off on the nuns and disappeared. The women swiftly divided their party, and Rey was escorted into the nuns’ own bathhouse for a good scrubbing (an unsupervised one, to her relief, though they did carry away her clothing with sniffs of disapproval). Once clean and shrouded in one of their spare robes, she was installed in a small hut of her very own and given a large bowl of stew that was more root vegetables than anything else. It was delicious, and hot.

She sensed Kylo before she saw him, but her meal was too interesting for her to do more than ask, “Do they hurt?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him settle on the floor near her. “What?”

Rey spared him a glance, spoon loaded with what was probably a kind of potato. “The shadows.”

He seemed surprised by the question, if her reading of his body language was correct. “No.” After a hesitation he added, “I’m used to it.”

“So you do feel something.”

“It’s more of… of a weight.” 

She took another bite, chewing slowly. “I’m guessing you have…”

“A face?” he finished sardonically. “Yes.”

“No need to be tetchy.” Warm, clean, and with food in hand, Rey felt almost prepared to have this conversation. “You asked me to help you. I can’t help without information.”

“True enough.” He wrapped his arms around his knees, shadows drifting. He really was enormous, in his own way- almost as big as Chewie, though Rey had never been tempted to take an admiring inventory of her travel companion’s muscles. “I don’t know why I have this mask. It could be a side-effect of the curse, or it could be spite. Though I never was handsome,” he added with a dry, humorless laugh. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky.”

Rey frowned, not liking his self-deprecating jibe the slightest bit. “I would rather see your face.”

She had wanted him without seeing it once. She had nearly built a life around the sight of his hands alone.

“It is off-putting.”

Before she could argue that he had misunderstood her (without revealing her feelings, which should be dead but were anything but) he disappeared yet again. 

“Honestly,” she muttered, poking at an unidentifiable if tasty blue vegetable with her spoon. “He’s exhausting.”

\- - -

_There was dust on the windowsill under her hand. “This is a dream,” she said, and for the first time her dream-self and waking-self were in accord. Rey knew herself, and knew she would remember when she woke. “Is this where you are?”_

_He looked around the room, shadows swaying as his head moved. “I suppose. I’ve never seen it while awake.”_

_Dust, cobwebs, an empty bed. Presumably not empty, in real life. “Where are we?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_Rey took a step toward him, intending to poke his chest for being so unhelpful, but stopped when heavy skirts swirled around her legs. She gathered a fold in one hand, the nap of luminous velvet soft under her fingertips. Her neckline, she realized belatedly, was rather low. “Did you do this?”_

_“Not intentionally.” He coughed, taking a step back. “Though you look lovely. Truly.”_

_She let her skirt drop, unaccountably pleased by the note of longing in his voice. “So you-”_

_Rey paused, remembering something important. “You know- knew- about Plutt. About my parents.”_

_It was all there in a previous dream: dark and light, kings and queens, Rey and her terrible past. “How?” she asked with creeping anger, hands clenching into fists. “How could you know?”_

_“You never tried to hide it.” He sounded as if he were pleading. “From the first dream those memories were an open book. Everything else was under lock and key, but what your parents did, what he did- I could always see that.”_

_When she only glared at him in return he moved toward her, holding out his hands in a peaceable fashion. “I can offer you something in trade.”_

_Rey held her ground as he approached, watching him warily. “What?”_

_“Something useful.” He looked almost as if he were preparing to embrace her. “The dagger you carry- you don’t know how to use it, do you?”_

_“No.” Han and Chewie had given her a few lessons, but she knew that in an actual fight what little she knew would quickly get her killed._

_“I do.” One of his shadows flicked toward her nose, and for a brief moment she nearly went cross-eyed trying to track its movements. “I don’t know if I can actually do this,” he continued, “but if you’ll let me try…?”_

_Kylo’s uncertainty was not comforting, but she was too curious to refuse. “Go on, then.”_

_His hands, warm and gentle, settled on either side of her face with a murmured “This will serve you well.”_

_At first all she felt was a sense of heat, something far more than his skin could provide. Heat turned to a low buzz of electricity, which turned inexplicably to knowledge. She could almost feel a dagger in her hand (but a larger hand, far larger than her own), and with it came muscle memory that started to rapidly tailor itself to her frame with a noticeable itch. As she stood in shocked stillness, waiting for the impossible to finish settling into bones and mind, his thumbs stroked along her cheekbones in an unmistakable caress. “The men traveling with you,” he said quietly, letting the phrase trail off._

_Stillness gave way to uncontrollable shivers, and he wrapped one arm around her back in response, pulling her against his chest. With his sturdy frame to lean against Rey managed to ask, “What about them?”_

_“You can trust them. As much as you can trust anyone, at least.”_

_She wanted to lie down, preferably with his arm still around her. “You know them?”_

_Another stroke of his thumb, long fingers sliding into her hair. “I did, once. Maybe I will again.”_

\- - -

“Han says you see ghosts,” Luke said without warning the next day, frowning at her as if she had insulted his mother. 

Rey, who still felt the occasional odd shiver along her nerves from Kylo’s well-intentioned gift, did her best not to glare back. “He’s not a ghost.”

“They’re always ghosts, or magical beings trying to trick you into something.” 

“He isn’t that, either.”

Probably. Rey had no good reason to believe his explanations, but the way Kylo said _please_ was almost reason enough. 

Luke tsked under his breath. “Spoken like every foolish girl who ever fell prey to a pair of pretty eyes.” 

Before she could do more than straighten to her full height, feeling incredibly offended, he added in an almost dismissive tone, “You would do best to join the order here. Your magic will only get you killed, otherwise.”

“I don’t have magic.” The too-long skirt of her borrowed robe slithered out from the rope she was using as a make-shift belt, pooling in the snow. With a huff she began to tuck it up again, throwing back her cloak when it hampered her arms. “And I have every intention of returning to your sister, who-”

“Where did you get that?”

Luke grabbed her arm, his grip tight enough to make her wince. From the stunned look on his face she doubted that he had meant to hurt her, but his intentions would hardly keep her from bruising. “Where,” he said again as she tried to pull away, “did you find _that dagger?_ ”

Rey looked down to the weapon at her hip. The hilt gleamed even in the weak sunlight, the flower and bird motif that she had spent painstaking time polishing clear to her eyes- her eyes, and obviously Luke’s as well. 

_It’s mine,_ she wanted to protest with a snarl, having grown fond of the dagger in the scant amount of time it had been in her possession. 

_It belonged to his mother,_ she reminded herself firmly, biting the inside of one cheek. 

“Was it Maz?” he asked as he dropped her arm, his voice strained. “Only Maz could have possibly squirreled the relic away.”

“Yes.” Rey took a step back, watching him warily. “I didn’t steal it.”

He closed his eyes, growing older in a span of seconds. “Of course not.” His hand- his _only_ hand, she realized suddenly- flexed at his side. “I apologize for seizing you.”

They were both silent for a long moment, until finally he opened his eyes and met her gaze. “I haven’t seen it since my mother died,” he explained quietly. “It was a shock.”

It wasn’t his apology or his lack of a hand or his status as an orphan that prodded her to move. It had nothing to do with him at all, really- it was something in her, some instinct of a far better self that led her to pull the dagger from its sheath and offer it to him hilt-first. He bent a look of utter longing on the weapon, eyes soft as if he seeing his own mother instead of tempered steel.

“No.” He took a step back, careful neutrality replacing sentiment. “Give it to Leia.” 

Rey slid the dagger back into its sheath and allowed her cloak to fall forward once more, hiding it from view. “She misses you.”

“Not that much.” Luke turned to walk away, directing one last comment to her over his shoulder: “Next time your ghost shows up, ignore it.”

She was tempted to follow at his heels until he actually _talked_ with her, as insensitive as that would be, but she knew he had nothing more to say. Not on that particular day, at least. 

Rey found Han in the barn, feeding Falcon a rough lump of sugar. “How did it go?” he asked as Falcon snuffled at his pockets, searching for another treat.

“Did you know?” she asked in lieu of answering, twitching back her cloak to reveal the dagger for a second time. “He wasn’t happy to see it.”

“Ahh.” He looked down to the smoke-gray cat winding around his ankles. “I’ve only ever seen it in Padmé’s portrait. I suspected, but I wasn’t entirely sure.”

The same cat trotted over to Rey and wriggled under her skirt, flopping down on her feet. Han chuckled, then said, “Leia won’t be upset. She would want you to use it.”

Rey wanted to move, more for the sake of moving than anything else, but the cat’s warm weight and barely audible purr kept her pinned into place. “Am I-”

She stopped, reconsidering, then bluntly asked, “Has she ever used the word ‘daughter’ before?”

“Not for a particular person.” Han didn’t look surprised by her question, but as if he had expected her to bring up the topic long ago. “We talked about having daughters… and then when it was clear that Ben would be our only child, she occasionally mentioned a daughter by marriage, if he turned out to be inclined in that direction.” Han shrugged, not bothering to hide the melancholy note to his expression. “But as fond as she is of her villagers, she’s never called them her children.”

“So she wasn’t being dramatic,” Rey pressed, twisting her fingers in her skirts. “Or trying to impress you.” _Or hurt you,_ she nearly added, but couldn’t make herself do so.

He laughed at that, sounding genuinely amused. “Leia hasn’t tried to impress me in years. She was being perfectly serious when she called you ‘daughter’, believe me.” 

For a long moment there was just the breathing of the horses and the cat’s purr. “I don’t know what to make of it,” she admitted. “I don’t know how to be… that.”

“I don’t think you need to know now.” He spoke in a tone that bordered on embarrassment but she guessed to be a careful disguising of other, softer, emotions. Weeks on the road had given Rey that much insight to his character. “Leia wouldn’t expect you to, or even to immediately agree to take that position.”

He left rather than wait for a response, face averted.

“He’s a kind man,” she told the cat softly after he had left. “Kinder than he wants anyone to know.”

The cat stretched, rolling off her booted feet to sprawl in the hay. 

“What would you do?”

The cat, peeking at her through half-lidded eyes, rolled onto her back to reveal a very fluffy tummy. 

Rey shook her head with a slight laugh, turning to walk away. “Even I know that’s a trap.”


	7. revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to voicedimplosives, who made a WONDERFUL moodboard for this fic which you can see [here](http://lachesisgrimm.tumblr.com/post/181787604570/the-world-shifts-and-i-am-better-here).

_“What has you thinking so hard?”_

_Rey, wearing yet another lavish gown that secretly delighted her, merely slanted a look at him from her spot on a pile of dusty pillows. Weary of the never-ending reminder of her circumstances (because there were more dreams, now, and a part of her dearly wished to just be left alone by the magic and her uncertain destiny for even a night), she had gathered the cushions from various chairs and couches while Kylo watched in quizzical silence, and the end result was the most comfortable bed she had ever experienced. True luxury, she thought, might just be a ludicrously overstuffed featherbed._

_“Tell me.” He knelt beside her makeshift feather mountain, voice rich with fond amusement. “Tell me, little one.”_

_Pique drove her to speak to him for the first time that night. “I’m hardly a child, Kylo.”_

_“No, you aren’t.” Gone was his amusement; in its place was stark awareness that nearly made her squirm. “A woman grown.” With seeming reverence he scooped up the hand closest to him, her fingers curling into his palm. “But small in comparison,” he added quietly. “And I can hardly say your name, not again.”_

_She hadn’t intended her words as an invitation. She hadn’t even spared a thought to what she might look like, sprawled over her stolen pillows- but with him so close, Rey guiltily acknowledged that she rather liked the outcome. “I suppose not.” She had considered giving him a fake name- Jane, perhaps, or Sarah, or Kira- but knew she only wanted her real name from his lips, whatever those lips might look like. “How old are you?”_

_“Difficult to tell.” He kept her hand captive with the gentlest of holds, one she didn’t try to break. “Time doesn’t mean much. I was twenty-three when the curse fell, but years or months or decades may have passed since.”_

_Rey frowned, an inkling taking hold in her mind- but then he raised her hand upward, shadows enveloping her skin right before his lips brushed over her knuckles. She shivered, but as much as she wanted to enjoy the moment an unpleasant thought nagged at her. “You don’t need to seduce me, you know,” she said, defensiveness creeping into her voice. He seemed to stare down at her, her hand still a hairsbreadth from his mouth. The shadows against her skin had the same weight as her heavy velvet skirts. “If I wake you up I won’t be expecting… favors.”_

_Kisses. Fealty. Attention. He would ride away, and she would return to the village, and-_

_“What if I just enjoy touching you?” he asked, a note of curiosity in his tone._

_“Because you like touching women, and I’m the first one you’ve seen in a long time?” she replied tartly._

_“No.” He turned her hand, her fingers uncurling as he did so, and pressed a kiss into her palm. “You. Just you.” His murmur, like the shadows, held that same velvety quality. “If I had first seen you while awake, I would have courted you. Decorous strolls in lush gardens, stolen kisses in dark corners… a thorough bedding on silk.”_

_Her breath came short, but still she managed a harsh, clipped, “Kylo.”_

_One last kiss against her fingertips and her hand was her own again. “Wake me up and see how interested I am.” A quiet, quiet laugh. “I could sigh your name for the rest of my life.”_

\- - -

Rey woke up irritated, and despite her promise to help the nuns with the laundry- despite her hunger, even- simply sat for quite a long time next to the embers of the fire. “I don’t want to be wanted just because I might break a curse,” she muttered. “I don’t want to be loved just for breaking one.”

It would be the right thing, though, to try. Rey felt that to her bones, just as she felt that breaking the curse was somehow more important than returning Luke to Leia’s side. 

She pulled the dagger free, touching one finger to the engraved motif. “What do you think?” she asked, wondering if in this land of magic and mystery a dead queen might answer her call. “Should I try and find him? Should I…”

Nothing.

 _I wouldn’t mind a kiss,_ she admitted to herself, though she knew that giving in to what he offered only to have him disappear or approach another person with that same velvet tone would break her heart.

“Unthinking celibacy was much easier,” Rey grumbled when she finally stood. “This is shit.”

\- - -

By the time the nuns released her from laundry duty her arms already ached fiercely, but Rey still trudged through the snow to an out-of-the-way spot, intent on getting in at least some practice with her gifted skill. The dagger, when she unsheathed it, felt like an extension of her own hand. 

_This will be useful,_ she reminded herself as she started the exercises her mind and body now recognized as a warm-up. _Knowing exactly where and how to shove a knife into a man’s chest is uncomfortable, but-_

“I didn’t teach you that.”

Rey spun to meet Han’s gaze, his expression far too bland to be anything but a careful construction. 

“I’ve been practicing,” was all she could think to say, and he raised a brow. 

“That’s obvious.” Han took a step closer, arms crossed over his chest. “Was it Chewie? It looked like his style. He taught- well, he taught a number of people how to wield a dagger.”

“No. No, I just… made it up.”

Though perhaps Kylo had once been one of Chewie’s students, which seemed entirely plausible. She would have to find a way to ask without bringing names into the conversation. 

“Huh.” Han didn’t believe her, that much was clear, but he also didn’t press her further on the subject. “What do you think of this place?”

She slid the dagger into its sheath, then grabbed her cloak from the tree branch she had hung it on. “It’s peaceful,” she replied noncommittally, and he barked a laugh.

“Boring, you mean.”

Rey lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s not to my taste.”

The village had been, in its own way- Leia’s warmth had assured that. Though Ahch-To was similar in its day-to-day routine, the only friendly faces were the ones Rey had brought with her. 

“Or mine.” He started making his way toward the barn, gesturing for her to follow. “Much rather be on the move, myself; staying in one place- even one as isolated as Ahch-To- always feels risky.”

It was warmer inside, and at the moment empty of all other people. Perhaps her interrupted work-out was for the best; the nuns kept her so busy that it had been several days since Rey had last spoken to Han privately. “Do you ever travel north?” she asked, the ghost of Kylo’s kiss brushing over her palm. 

“Toward the capital? No. There are still some people who would recognize me there.” He sat on a bale of hay, considering her. “Do you want to head in that direction?”

 _Yes._ Her gut instinct told her that Kylo waited in the north, and there were times when she felt half-tempted to saddle Astra and disappear in the middle of the night, as foolish as that would be. “I was just wondering,” she said instead, not quite ready to consign herself to that fate. Perching on another bale, she toyed with a shred of hay, twirling it between her fingers. “Do you really think that you can put Leia back on the throne?”

Han let loose a quiet sigh, staring down at his hands. “I don’t know.”

“It just sounds…”

 _Like a fairy tale._ But fairy tales always glossed over the nasty business of reclaiming a crown, of healing an ailing country. Stories only offered magic and a wedding that lasted a year and a day, not carefully planned methods of distributing food and grain to impoverished villagers. 

“Impossible,” he said flatly. “I’m aware.”

“Does she even want to be Queen again?”

“It was never about the wardrobe or the crown for Leia.” Not the answer Rey wanted, but an answer all the same. “She feels a responsibility for the people, for the land… feels it more viscerally than I can really understand.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward fondly. “Luke may have inherited his father’s magic, but Leia has a magic of her own. The same magic her mother had, I think, and most likely her mother’s mother.”

Rey began breaking the piece of hay into bits. “She’s bound to the land, you mean. To the people.” And- unable to do anything about the problems outside the forest- had focused her attention and talents on the few people she could save. 

He shrugged, though his expression did not match the easy gesture. “Something like that. Throne or no throne, she feels the echo of their pain. And while I may not have magic, I’ve seen that pain first-hand. So… Luke.”

“Who doesn’t want anything to do with toppling a despot.”

“Who would? But convincing him is my problem, not yours.” Han leaned back against the bales behind him, stretching out his legs. A barn cat- this one black and white- appeared from seemingly nowhere to sniff at his boots. “Still seeing your rabbit?”

“Yes.” She picked up another strand of hay to shred. “Does it bother you?”

He snorted, the sound sending the cat skittering away. “Rey, I’ve seen things and people stranger than you’ll ever be. As long as that rabbit isn’t scaring or hurting you, I’m not bothered.”

Rey peered at him from under her lashes. “Luke seems to think that he’s some kind of demon.” 

Another shrug. She was beginning to suspect that this was exactly how he had been as a king: approachable, laid-back, the roguish foil to Leia’s sharp eyes and incisive wit. “What do you think?”

“He doesn’t want to hurt me.” She dusted bits of hay off her hands. “He needs help.”

Han barely blinked. “What does this rabbit look like?”

There was no good way to answer that question- telling Han about the shadows would only give credence to Luke’s theory- so Rey simply said, “Tall.”

For a brief moment what might have been fear flickered over his expression, but the emotion passed when the gray cat from their last meeting jumped onto his lap, settling with a contented purr. “Is he telling you to go north?”

“He doesn’t know where he is.” Rey shook her head a little despairingly. “I just- I just wish someone would show me my place in all this,” she admitted, her voice more ragged than she liked. “And I keep thinking he might be able to do that.”

She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. They were too personal, too raw to share- but they had been shared, and that couldn’t be undone. 

Han scritched behind the cat’s ears, silent. “You know,” he said eventually, “before Leia took a liking to me, I was a sell-sword with a fake family name. No noble antecedents, no money, no magic- just Chewie and I roaming around the kingdom taking out bandits and protecting villages from raiders.”

Her mouth twitched into a tiny, reluctant smile. “That sounds like quite the story.”

“One of these days, maybe I’ll even tell it.” He gave her a similar smile. “My point is, before Leia I knew _exactly_ where I fit in the natural order of things. Since meeting her, though… well, I’ve become very comfortable with uncertainty.”

Jakku had been fraught with danger, but it had been dependable, in its own way. Rey’s role, there, as an insignificant tool who could easily become prey, had been set in stone. 

So much of her life in Alderaan felt like feeling her way through the dark.

“There are some things I would change, given the chance,” Han was saying, “but I’ve never regretted marrying Leia. Or having Ben.” 

The cat curled like a baby into the curve of Han’s arm, peering upward at him adoringly. Perhaps he had once held his son like that, fine clothes growing wrinkled as he hunched protectively over the infant. Rey picked at the sturdy wool of her trousers. _Say it._ “Han?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I will need to go north.” 

Because it beckoned to her. 

Because it was the right thing to do.

Because she needed the answer to _one_ question, at least.

“Well.” He paused, head bent low. “If you can wait a little while longer,” he said finally, “I’ll take you.”

And with a quiet sigh of relief, Rey nodded. 

\- - -

“I’m sorry.” Kylo settled at her side in front of the small fire, his tone apologetic. “I was too forward.”

“You were.” The words were at least half a lie. “You’re lonely,” Rey said quickly. “I understand that.”

“So are you.” Still apologetic, but he was leaning toward her ever-so-slightly. “The outcast turned chosen one.”

She snorted, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I’m- I’m just… I’m no chosen one.”

“Chosen for something,” he persisted. “The forest wouldn’t have stolen you, otherwise.”

The fire put out a decent amount of heat, but his words sent a chill creeping up her spine. “It’s a never-ending pattern, isn’t it?” she asked rhetorically, keeping her eyes on the flickering flames. “Destiny. I’m always destined to serve someone- something- else.” Plutt. Magic. “Never myself.”

To her surprise his shadows bobbed in a nod. “I know,” he replied gravely. “I’ve understood that from a very young age.”

For not the first time she wished that they could meet eye to eye. “You have obligations, then.”

“Had. Heavy ones.”

“Are you happy to no longer have them?”

He considered that for a moment, and then shook his head. “I was raised to fulfill a certain role, and I respected the obligations that came along with it. I would have taken on that weight gratefully, if given the chance.”

“Perhaps you still could.” When he didn’t answer she rested her cheek against her knees, head turned toward him. “Because I’ve decided to search for you. In the north.”

“That would be a good place to start,” he replied in a low, almost cautiously excited tone. “Though…”

“Monsters?” she supplied delicately. The memories of her arrival were still a bit patchy- she had the fever to blame for that- but she did remember that particular exchange. 

Kylo pulled away without response, smoothing down the front of his tunic with the greatest of care.

“I’ll admit that the shadows gave me a turn, but you don’t seem like much of a monster,” she said pointedly. 

“You’re kinder than I deserve.” He let his hands fall to his lap, palms up, and Rey didn’t think it was an unconscious choice. 

“Murder anyone recently?” she asked when he didn’t elaborate. “Drown kittens? Blackmail a comely widow?”

His snort of laughter made her lips twitch upward in a smile. “If someone told you over and over that you were wicked,” he said, a tinge of dark amusement in his tone, “if multiple people said you were a monster… a whole _country_ , even- wouldn’t that mean something?”

She tilted her head to one side, a niggling of _something_ \- suspicion, understanding, kismet- taking hold in her mind. “Without proof?”

“For years.” His fingers curled inward. “As your dreams turn sour and everyone turns against you… until one day you take a bite of your food and it burns in your mouth, because someone slipped poison into your portion of fowl.”

Rey’s heart thudded in an increasing rhythm. It was impossible- unless it wasn’t.

Because this entire world was impossible. Queens disguised as village matriarchs, scavengers plucked from obscurity tasked with an inscrutable mission…

Princes cursed to an unending sleep.

He leaned close, his shadows licking at her cheek. “And then they send you away,” he whispered. “Very far away.”

She kept her eyes trained on his hands- hands for which she had amassed and entertained both soft and lustful feelings- and felt her throat grow painfully tight. “I see.” Rey released a shuddering breath, trying to stay calm as the urge to stand and pace thrummed through her limbs. He- _Ben_ \- needed her to stay still, to stay close. “I suppose M- I suppose she was right.”

Rey could tell that he was watching her carefully, waiting for the true extent of her reaction. “How so?”

“She said that someone could still come back. And I thought she meant your uncle, or your mother-”

His hands momentarily trembled.

“-but she meant you.” Tentatively she closed one hand over his, their bare skin touching for the first time outside of dreams. Rey blinked away the sudden image of a dark-haired child running over green grass, forcing herself to focus on the matter at hand. “They all think you’re dead.”

His reply was barely audible. “Do they?”

“Do you really think they would have left you to your dreams, otherwise?”

Leia would have stormed his prison herself, if she had known the truth, with Han and Chewie at her heels. Together they would have torn apart any building, stone by stone, until they reached his resting place- and if they were unable to break the curse, they would have carried him away to somewhere safe.

Perhaps even to Ahch-To, and his mage uncle.

“They never would have knowingly left you to this fate.” Despite his seven years of sleep his hand still bore callouses. “They never would have left you alone.”

“No,” he said, voice muffled, and she thought that under the shadows he might be crying. “I-”

Whatever he had to say, be it confession or praise or something else entirely, was lost when the door to her hut flew open to admit a frantic looking Luke. Time seemed to slow as his gaze focused just to Rey’s right, exactly where Ben sat. 

Luke threw up one hand, and everything- the hut, the warmth of Ben’s skin against hers, the emotion of the moment- was blown apart, leaving Rey dazed and alone under the cold night sky.


	8. truth

Cold air rushed in, striking Rey’s skin as she lay amidst the rubble, bringing with it the smell of snow, scorched fabric, and a whiff of burning hair. 

Her burning hair. With a growl she swiped her hands awkwardly over her head, limbs not responding as promptly as she would like. Her ears were ringing, and- belatedly remembering that her hands should be holding other hands, not brushing away dying embers- she painfully rolled to her side in search of someone who was no longer there.

Other hands pulled her up as she scrabbled through crumbled stone and ash, lifting her into strong, familiar arms.

 _Ben,_ she thought for a moment in relief, before realizing that her rescuer was actually a furious Chewie. “But it couldn’t have hurt him,” she mumbled, reassuring herself. “He’s fine.”

“Not if Han throws him off this forsaken mountain,” Chewie snapped back, carrying her out of the wreckage. His voice sounded muffled to her befuddled ears, his expression dark and fierce, but he held her with care. “A quick death would be too good for him.”

She blinked, momentarily confused, then understood. “Not Luke. Ben.”

A part of Rey realized that she shouldn’t say the name, that this news was best relayed carefully, sensitively, but it was too late- her tongue had betrayed her. “Ben,” she said again, Chewie staring down at her intently. “I was talking to Ben.”

He understood quickly, or perhaps she was just muddled more than she knew, but before she could say anything more to clarify he bolted over the frozen ground, clutching her to his chest as if she weighed no more than a lamb. “Put me _down,_ ” she said insistently, needing to approach this problem on her own two unsteady feet. “Chewie, please-”

“ _Han!_ ”

His bellow made her wince. Other voices were making themselves known, though it took her more than a few seconds to separate them: high-pitched outrage from the nuns, and- somewhere farther off- two very upset men. 

“Put me down,” Rey said again in a growl as they drew closer. “ _Put me down._ ”

Chewie was practically roaring when he came to a stop- as was Han, as was Luke, and all the noise made her feel ill- but he set Rey on her feet gently, placing his hands on her shoulders when she swayed. For an interminable moment all was clamor, until Chewie shouted one name that cut through the chaos. 

“ _BEN._ ”

Even in the dark, even dazed, Rey could see the slack-jawed hurt that crossed Han’s face. 

And Luke’s flinch.

“Listen to Rey,” Chewie said firmly, and they did.

“I just found out tonight,” she said, cutting to the chase. “My rabbit is Ben. He’s always been Ben. He’s not dead.” Blood was trickling down her face, but Rey hardly noticed- the cuts were shallow, and she knew from experience that head wounds bled far, far too much. “He’s cursed.”

As Han sucked in a ragged breath Luke straightened, gesturing with reckless abandon to the milling nuns and the wreckage. There was no anger on his face, no mindless rage- just fear, pure and simple. “That was _not_ Ben. My nephew is dead. That was a demon- I could see its darkness swirling, _reaching_ for you, you should be _grateful_ -”

Without looking Han reached out, shoving Luke hard on one shoulder. “Be quiet.” He took a step toward her, and when he spoke his voice was pitched low. “Rey, are you sure?” Pain and fatigue and just a smidgen of hope. “Because Ben… there was an ambush, and Luke-”

He stopped, jaw clenching, and slowly- so slowly- looked to his brother-in-law. “Luke was there,” he continued, the words sounding almost hollow. “Luke saw.”

“I did see, because that’s what happened.” Still, Luke looked shaken. “He wasn’t breathing, Han. He was utterly still.”

“And you buried him.” Han tilted his head slightly to the side. “You told Leia that you buried him.”

Luke didn’t reply, his answer clear. 

Heat burned through Rey’s limbs. Anger, perhaps, though whether it was for Ben or for herself (blood in her eyes, the beginnings of bruises, her _ears_ ), she wasn’t quite sure. Wrenching herself from Chewie’s hold, she launched herself forward. 

Later she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint how she took him down, or even really what had happened in the brief span of seconds between when she started to move and when she was on her knees in the snow, Luke pinned beneath her and the dagger point at his throat. All she would remember were Han and Chewie’s muffled shouts, Luke’s expression of resignation, and the feel of a hand on her shoulder. 

Not Han’s hand, or Chewie’s, or even Ben’s. A slim, small hand, but no less strong for its size. Rey couldn’t risk a look behind her, but the overwhelming sense she had was one of _no._

No, because something soundless held her back. No, because the faint scent of flowers was in her nose.

No, and Rey understood why in the flash of a second. 

Whatever coordination she had left had apparently been used up in the attack, because she toppled off of Luke into the snow with all the grace of a newborn colt. “Your mother,” Rey said, barely able to hear her own voice, “won’t let me kill you.”

And then she closed her eyes, and for a long time everything was black. 

\- - - 

_Her hearing was perfectly fine in the dream. There was no blood on her face, no bruises on her limbs; she stood finely arrayed in silk, her arms bare. With a frown, she examined the fabric. “This is a nightgown.” A heavily embroidered nightgown, and modest by her standards, but a nightgown nonetheless._

_Ben didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, his hands settled carefully on either side of her face, attention focused on her entirely. “You should lie down,” he said, his tone a blend of concern and fear. “Little one-”_

_“I hate that name.”_

_His nod was almost a jerk. “I’m sorry, my-”_

_Ben faltered, then continued questioningly. “My friend?”_

_That she could be, if she could be nothing else. “We are friends, I think.”_

_“My friend.”_

_He wasn’t touching her like a friend. He was touching her like something precious, his fingertips caressing her hair lightly. Perhaps the shadows were a blessing, in that respect: whatever emotions occupied his expression, they were a mystery to her._

_“My uncle hurt you.” That fear again, and a slight tremor along the words. “You’re unconscious, I can tell. Are you badly injured?”_

_“No.” He was taller than his father, broader, and she wondered who he took after, under his disguise. “I’ll be fine, with some time and sleep.”_

_“Sleep.” Ben almost breathed the word, bending toward her. “You’ve passed out in the snow, haven’t you, sweetheart?”_

_Rey ignored the endearment, though she liked it a great deal- too much, in all honesty. “In front of your father, so I doubt he’s left me there.” In any other circumstance she would feel odd, even outraged at the idea of someone else handling her body, but she trusted Han and Chewie implicitly. “The shadows frightened your uncle; he seems to think you’re a demon.”_

_“I’m not surprised.” Ben straightened, his tone grumpy. “I think he resented being saddled with me for all those years. He might even-”_

_He paused. “Sometimes I think he believed the lies, too.”_

_Rey thought hard before speaking. “I have a hard time understanding him,” she admitted. “Hiding here, when he could be living with your mother… and so incredibly humorless.”_

_“He was a cypher to me, growing up.” Ben’s hands settled on her bare shoulders, skin warm against hers. “He wasn’t often at court- he traveled to who knows where, doing who knows what, and when he was around he didn’t have the patience to deal with a growing boy.”_

_“Troublesome, were you?”_

_He huffed a quiet, almost regretful laugh. “Less than most, though after I left home… I was angry. Scared. He probably found me hard to deal with.” Ben took in a breath, thumbs sweeping over her skin in an unconscious caress. “And we ran for years. Years hiding in caves, on mountaintops, sometimes only days ahead of- of others. By the time our running came to an end I’m not sure I knew him any better than when we started.”_

_Rey reached up, closing her hands around his wrists. “What happened?”_

_“The borders were closely watched, by both the army and whatever magic Sn- the king could manage.” Ben’s words fell heavily, though he spoke them quietly enough. “But my parents, through bribery and every favor ever owed them, finally managed to form a plan to get me out of the kingdom. And the plan failed.”_

_“He does seem to believe that you were- are- dead.”_

_For a long moment Ben was still, and then he shifted one hand so that he held her wrist instead of the other way around. “I expect there was a great deal of blood,” he said as he pulled her hand into the shadows and to his face._

_She held her hand still for a few seconds, feeling soft skin and a defined cheekbone under her palm. Tentatively her other hand joined the first, and she began to map her new terrain. Long lashes, plush mouth, a nose she suspected to be distinguished in real life- and cutting down his face, a scar. Rey traced two fingers down the raised line until she reached his collar, and would have gone further had the barrier not been in her way. “He must have been quite convinced,” she said as evenly as possible, unsettled._

_“And very happy to be free of such a large burden.” Ben leaned a little into the hand still at his cheek, and without quite thinking about it she hooked two fingers into his collar. “First running, now sleeping,” he murmured. “Never a moment to be useful- but I could be useful. I know how to hunt, how to dress a deer. I could manage easily in my mother’s woods.”_

_It was too much, all too much: her clothing, his stance, every word he spoke. “You don’t want a throne?” she asked, mouth dry._

_“I want to be awake.” His tone was firm and frustrated. “Everything else can be addressed then.”_

_Rey curled cold toes against the stone floor, the chill wreathing around her heart. Of course. Of course. “Then I’ll come for you as soon as I can.” She drew her hands away, wrapping her arms over her chest. “If I can wake you, I will… and if I can’t, I’ll do my best to take you somewhere safe.”_

_He seemed to be uncomfortable, and she didn’t know why. “Thank you.”_

_“I think I’m waking up.” The silk was thinner, the room colder, hazier._

_“You probably are.”_

_“I’ll-”_

\- - -

“Rey.”

There was no sense of ringing in her ears, no muffled sounds. Just Han’s voice, crystal clear. She opened her eyes, blinking against the dim light of a fire. They were in yet another hut, one practically identical to her former quarters. “Your son is very impatient,” she informed him grouchily, tugging the blanket over her body up to her neck. “As if I’m the one dawdling, when he spent months pretending he was someone else.”

That wasn’t an entirely fair assessment of the situation, but Rey didn’t particularly care at that moment. Han took her by the chin, peering into her eyes carefully. “Sounds like Ben,” he said noncommittally. “How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

He released her, looking relieved. “Can you sit up?”

She could, with a bit of grumbling, and was unsurprised to find Chewie with them. Luke, though, sitting slumped on the other side of the fire, was unexpected. “My mother,” he said quietly, expression unreadable. “My nephew. Perhaps you’ve met my father, too.”

“I don’t think so. Not exactly.” Being snatched wasn’t exactly a personal meeting, not when she was still confused where the boundary between the dead mage and the magic lay. Two separate but coexisting entities, or his ghost subsumed by a greater power, or some third option she hadn’t yet considered. “What happened?”

Before Luke even spoke she knew that he was trying to avoid the larger question. “I have some healing magic,” he said, fingers plucking at his robe. “Your injuries were small.”

“That wasn’t the question, Luke,” Han broke in, irritated. “Just because _I_ haven’t beaten you bloody yet-”

“ _I’m_ not convinced that Snoke isn’t playing some trick,” Luke shot back. “I will admit that I ran without burying Ben,” he spat, voice full of indisputable self-loathing. “But I was alone and facing a dozen knights, all armed to the teeth, all carrying wards against my magic-”

Han shifted minutely, something in his body language reminiscent of his son, and Luke abruptly stopped talking. “If you had mentioned it five years ago, we would have understood.” Han’s tone was bitter and sword-sharp. “Leia would have understood. But you told us a very different story, Luke. _You_ said that Lando betrayed us, that his promised men were sworn to Snoke, and that you were the last left standing. _You_ told Leia that her son was buried in an unmarked grave in the wilds of Mustafar- and now it seems that _you_ were lying.” 

The silence that fell was daunting, and Rey scarcely allowed herself to breathe as they waited for Luke’s answer.

“We never met Lando,” he admitted finally. “We never went to Mustafar. I received a message from my old teacher, Master Yoda-”

“One of the first to die after Snoke took the throne,” Chewie muttered in disgust.

“I didn’t know that, then.” All of Luke’s defensive anger was shed; only fatigue remained. “He offered to sneak us over the border into Hapes, but when we arrived we walked straight into an ambush. Ben was struck down within minutes, and I ran.”

Han was utterly, utterly still, and when he did reply his voice was eerily composed. “We might have even understood that,” he began, “but what I cannot forgive- may never be able to forgive- is that Leia has spent the past five years blaming herself for trusting a turncoat.”

No mention of himself, but Rey wasn’t fooled: under the unnatural calm, the measured tones, Han was bleeding from an old wound ripped wide open. 

“Han-”

“And that when Lando sent a message begging for my help three years ago, I ignored him.”

“Han-”

“And when I heard that he was dead, I was glad.”

Luke didn’t try to break in a third time. Chewie spoke instead, voice a low rumble. “We leave tomorrow, then?”

“Yes,” Han confirmed, turning his face away from Luke. “Provided Rey feels well enough to ride. There’s nothing else for us here.”

The sick feeling in Rey’s stomach was purely emotional; Luke’s magic had healed all her physical woes. “I do.”

“Good.” Han paused, then said, “We’ll discuss our plan once we’re well away, in safer company.”

And with that Luke left the hut, head bowed.

\- - -

The nuns saw them off with blessings given in clipped tones, clearly placing at least a portion of the blame for the ruined hut on them. Luke was nowhere to be seen.

“North,” Han said when they were halfway down the mountain, speaking for the first time in at least an hour. “Rey, do you think you can guide us there?”

She considered the question, examining that pull that tugged her onward. “Yes,” she said finally. “I think so.”

“More settled land to the north,” Chewie noted, though not in a disparaging fashion. “And fewer allies. We’ll have to risk buying our supplies in villages.”

“We have the coin.” Han sounded almost distracted. “We’ll manage.”

Rey, walking alongside Astra on a particularly steep bit of the path, asked, “You believe me, then?”

“Hard not to,” Han replied after a moment. “If you had told me before- before Luke admitted the truth, I might not have. It would have sounded too much like one of Snoke’s tricks. Still might be, I suppose.” He paused, then added in a quieter tone, “It’s odd to have hope again.” Odd, and judging by his expression, maybe even troubling. “The last time I saw Ben he was still growing into himself, though he was already taller than me. We bundled him onto his horse in the middle of the night, a hood pulled over his face, and I thought… I thought ‘the next time I see him, he’ll be a man’.”

“It was the poisoning attempt, wasn’t it?” Rey asked, her gloved fingers tangled in Astra’s mane. “Ben said someone tried to kill him.”

Han nodded. “One of Leia’s handmaidens, someone we thought we could trust. She put in too much and he noticed immediately; spat it out in front of the entire court. We sent him away only hours later.” Another pause. “He was still dizzy. It was all he could do to stay in the saddle.”

He said nothing more, pulling his own hood further forward. 

Ben appeared only once on that largely silent day: a dark form amidst the snow, too far away to catch up with them. He raised a hand in greeting as they passed, and Rey returned the gesture.

“Ben?” Han asked softly, and Rey nodded. 

“Ben.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not: Rey's hair is largely unharmed.


	9. circling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to everyone for your lovely comments! I hope you are all having a wonderful day.

The first village they passed through was not occupied, and had not been occupied in quite some time. Underneath lacy white snow lay the skeletal, charred remains of buildings, gray sky peeking through beams and the patchy remains of roofs. Han and Chewie looked around with wary unsurprise, the latter only displaying the merest glimpse of a smile when a startled deer bolted from between the remains of two homes. 

“Why?” Rey asked, almost overwhelmed by horror. Blood had been shed here- far too much blood. 

Han’s weary shrug and “Why not?” was more than she had expected. “Maybe they couldn’t pay their exorbitant taxes. Maybe they rose up against the local baron when he raped the miller’s daughter. Maybe a group of drunk lordlings thought it would be fun. Snoke doesn’t particularly care what his nobles do, as long as they pay their tithes and grovel appropriately in court.”

“Not worried about the people rising up, is he?” Rey muttered.

“There have been a few attempts,” Chewie explained quietly. “Several among the commoners, and once by a noble house in the east- the Ackbars. Between the army and his magic, each insurrection was completely wiped out.”

They were passing out of the village as he spoke, traveling through a wide expanse of exposed ground that Rey suspected had been torched along with the buildings. Had the bodies been properly buried, or had the soldiers thrown them into a pit? Or had they been left to rot on the ground and were even now hidden by the snow, their remains trampled by Astra’s hooves?

Her shiver had nothing to do with the cold, but it was a convenient excuse. “How long has it been since you traveled in this direction?”

“Two years, or thereabouts,” Chewie answered after a moment of thought. “This is one of the safer routes north- fewer villages, fewer people.” A frown crossed his face at those words, a clear sign he regretted his phrasing. “Though there’s always the risk that Snoke has demolished the woodlands ahead; it is- or was- good timber.”

Danger ahead and on all sides, and no clue how near they were to where Ben waited. _That way_ was the best guidance she could offer, pointing in the direction she felt the tug. There was no indication of hot or cold, close or far, but simply a constant, steady pressure that pulled her onward. 

He could be days away, or months. He could be resting in a glass coffin in a copse of trees, or in a high tower guarded by a dragon. He could be surrounded by an army or tended by a single elderly servant, and Rey had the unnerving sense that she wouldn’t know until she was literally at his doorstep. 

Still, neither Han nor Chewie complained. They nodded whenever she corrected their course, and if Han was largely quiet and withdrawn he also regarded her with grave trust. She- still a stranger to Alderaan, who knew Leia’s village and little more- had become their guide. 

Rey looked over her shoulder one last time before they entered the next stretch of woods. The village waited, silent and empty, stark against the gray sky. Maybe there would come a day when people chose to rebuild, or maybe it would be reclaimed by the surrounding forest in the years to come. 

_I’ll do what I can,_ she promised the seemingly expectant silence, and looked away.

\- - -

_“I was there.”_

_They had wandered any number of halls and rooms during Rey’s previous dreams, but she couldn’t remember ever standing on the battlements. Above them the sky was an odd gray-green: sickly, as if heralding a storm, and a brisk breeze ruffled her silk dress of unrelieved black. She believed Ben when he claimed not to be consciously choosing her attire, but she was fairly certain his mood and wishes influenced everything in this liminal space they inhabited. Deservedly, she supposed- for the moment at least, dreams were his province. “Where?”_

_“That burned village.”_

_“You could have shown yourself.”_

_He scuffed his booted toe against the stone floor. “Couldn’t.”_

_Ben usually spoke like the prince he was, but now he was all short words and clipped tones. “How so?” she asked, taking a side-step toward him. “I won’t tell your father when you’re around, if that’s what bothers you.”_

_“No, not that.” He leaned against the wall, hands curled over the stone edge. “You can tell him,” he continued in a slightly softer voice, almost tentatively. “If you think he would want to know.”_

_Rey had forgotten that this was their first conversation since Ahch-To. It had only been two days, but for once Rey knew secrets Ben hadn’t even guessed at. “It wasn’t your parents’ plan that failed,” she told him with another side-step, and then another, her skirts brushing against his own black attire. “Your uncle admitted that he chose to follow his own plan, even though he told your parents that it was their ally who betrayed them.”_

_He was still, his breathing so shallow that it was barely audible through the sound of the breeze._

_“Your father was very upset. I think he might have called Luke out, but he was too eager to find you- and maybe he’s saving that particular honor for your mother.”_

_Ben huffed a dry laugh. “Father always had a deep respect for Mother’s temper.”_

_“As well he should.” She slid her hand gently over one of his, ignoring the chill of the stone. “He’s coming north for you. With me, and with-”_

_When she hesitated, unsure of how to refer to Chewie, Ben nodded. “I know. He was another uncle to me, in many ways- and a far dearer one.”_

_“There you have it, then.” Rey kept her tone quiet, but light. “They’re both taking this risk for you.”_

_“And you.”_

_She shrugged. “Only because I’m a convenient go-between.”_

_The hand under hers slipped away, his arm pulling her close in barely a handful of seconds. “You,” he murmured against her hair, her cheek pressed to the velvet of his doublet, “are going to have to learn to be appreciated. Unless my parents have changed drastically, they likely find you just as charming and lovable as I do.”_

_Rey snorted even as her heart skipped a beat. “I was trying to reassure you,” she said in as acidic a tone as she could muster, carefully keeping still lest she snuggle into his hold. “Don’t be ridiculous.”_

_“You doubt me, sweetheart?”_

_When she didn’t answer he stepped back, his shadows shifting as if he had tilted his head slightly to the side in consideration. “You do doubt me,” he murmured, his hands on her shoulders. “And why is that?”_

_“I’m the first person you’ve seen in seven years.” Though Rey wanted to avert her gaze she kept it firmly on where she thought his eyes might be. “And maybe the only one who can break the curse. It’s… it’s natural to be hopeful, even grateful, but-”_

_When she broke off, he waited a few seconds more before saying, “I see.” Two quiet, thoughtful words, his hands sliding down to cup her elbows. “But after I’m awake-”_

_“After you’re awake, you’ll have your parents, and a kingdom to reclaim, so-”_

_“So clearly I’ll forget all about you.” He sounded amused, but in a rather insulted fashion. “I won’t.”_

_“And I won’t be pursued because I’m the only option or because you feel it’s owed,” she snapped, taking a step back. “It isn’t kind,” Rey continued, horrified to hear a crack in her voice. “Just because I’m no one and grew up with nothing doesn’t mean that I’m immune to- to this.” She waved a hand in his direction, taking in every bit of him and his romantic overtures. “I don’t want to be left with a broken heart when you ride off to find a well-dowered princess who comes with an army in tow.”_

_Too late, she admitted to herself. Far too late to spare her heart, but he didn’t need to know that._

_When she took another step away he didn’t follow her, but instead leaned against the stone wall again. “You’re right,” he said in a surprisingly peaceable tone, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to react. “I’m not being kind, but after seven years alone I’m out of practice.”_

_Her mouth quirked into a reluctant smile. “I suppose you are.”_

_“But I want to be kind to you. More than kind.” One finger traced something- a symbol, a scribble- on the stone. “So for now, we’re friends.”_

_“Better than enemies.”_

_“Much.” Warmth crept into his voice. “And after I’m awake, and you’re satisfied that I’m not going to run after the first person who smiles in my direction-”_

_Her heart in her throat, hardly daring to breathe, Rey hurriedly interrupted him. “You should have said hello in the village.”_

_After a pause he sighed, and when he next spoke his tone was bitter. “At a site of the prophecy come true? I’ll keep that in mind next time I find myself facing my own failures.”_

_Ben had a way of drawing her back in again despite her own sense of self-preservation, and her answer was a brisk “You’re in a coma; you could hardly have torched that place yourself.”_

_“It still feels like my fault.” He drummed his fingers on the top of the wall. “I was twenty-three when I was cursed. A man grown by anyone’s reckoning, and yet I just walked right into a trap. I- I stayed with my uncle that long because I promised my parents I would,” he admitted. “But for at least a year before that I seriously considered sneaking away in the night and trying my own luck.”_

_“I think five years on the run would have made nearly anyone consider that.” She closed the distance between them, keeping her eyes on his hands. In the eerie light his pale skin almost glowed. “Especially with such company. Though… though I do think he thought his plan was safe.”_

_“I’m sure he did. No matter what he thought of me, he loved my mother.” He leaned a little toward her, and when his shadows licked at her cheek she accepted them as the comforting caress they were. “Where is he now?”_

_“I don’t know.” Rey took in a breath, shifting almost without thought so that her shoulder was pressed against his arm. “He disappeared after your father ripped him to shreds with a handful of words.”_

_“I would have liked to see that,” Ben mused. “He usually left such things to Mother.”_

_“I tried to stab him,” she offered casually after a moment. “But-”_

_“But my father stopped you?” he interjected with an almost audible grin._

_“Your grandmother. I think.” Rey dropped her hand to the hip where the dagger would have been in the waking world. “Does everyone in your family stick around after death? This kingdom must be very crowded, if so.”_

_“Not to my knowledge.” He sounded a little dazed. “You really don’t know how extraordinary you are, do you?”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous.”_

_“Shifting worlds, sharing dreams with cursed princes, meeting long-dead queens-”_

_“It was hardly a meeting,” she interrupted, flushing. “She grabbed my shoulder; I never even saw her-”_

_“-charming deposed royalty,” he continued unabated. “Learning any number of useful skills. Would you like a few more? I know several languages, if you want them.”_

_“No,” Rey said firmly, repressing a shudder at the idea of a solid day of speaking a hodge-podge of languages while her brain settled them in some kind of order. “I don’t have time for that.”_

_“Very well. You’ll find them useful, though, when you’re the queen.”_

_“I’m not going to be the queen,” she gritted out, briefly entertaining the thought that maybe, maybe seven years of solitude had upset his reasoning._

_“I have every hope that you will be my queen,” he responded easily, his low, teasing tone so like Han’s she momentarily gaped at him before composing herself. “But I’ll happily teach you after that comes to pass, in the privacy of our chambers.”_

_“I thought,” Rey sputtered, “that we were- were just friends.”_

_“Friends who understand each other. Now you know exactly what I want, and I know exactly what you need: time, and proof. I’ll give you both.”_

_She scowled toward the horizon. “I’m going to tell your mother,” she muttered, a dire promise._

_“She’ll have us betrothed before the words have left your mouth,” he said with a dry laugh, then abruptly stopped. “I’m making you uncomfortable,” he murmured regretfully. “I apologize. Truthfulness was my intent, not harassing you. Time has made me impatient.”_

_“Which is why I need time.”_

_“I know.”_

_To her surprise he turned and sat, his back to the wall. Her skirts and his shadows were too similar in color to do anything but blend. “I’m full of faults,” he said quietly. “But I’ll do my best to temper them.”_

_“I have plenty of my own,” she responded carefully. “My table manners are still terrible, for one. And I’m horribly possessive of whatever I consider mine.” There had been little of the latter, in Jakku, but she had gained a reputation nonetheless. Plutt had dubbed her his ‘little goblin’, the nickname spoken in tones ranging from cynically amused to lecherous. “A queen should be all diplomacy, even when visiting nobility is making eyes at her king.”_

_“Believe me, my loving mother made her displeasure known in that kind of situation- as did my father, in his own way. And it’s often the other way around, in Alderaan.” He tugged lightly at her skirt. “I would never stray, and neither would you.”_

_“And what would you do, if someone tried to seduce your queen?” Rey asked, the question a serious one._

_“Treat them with icy condescension and love you thoroughly when we retire for the night,” he replied firmly, and she rolled her eyes._

_“And?”_

_“And whip them soundly in a duel,” Ben muttered. “Non-fatally, of course. And you?”_

_Snarl and stalk about, she knew instinctively, and didn’t answer._

_“I’m going to enjoy courting you.”_

_With a huff she planted her elbow on the wall, chin in hand. “Just wait until I can hiss your name threateningly.”_

_“I’m looking forward to it,” Ben murmured, and leaned his head against her hip._

\- - -

They skirted around the next village, Rey only catching glimpses through the trees of the inhabitants bundled up against the chill, all looking somehow tense even from a distance. The village after that they only spotted by virtue of the smoke from the chimneys, and so it went for several days.

Finally, Chewie carefully counted out a portion of coin from their stash and rode toward the next village on his own, leaving Han and Rey to wait while he purchased grain and a few other necessities.

“He’ll be fine,” Han offered, feeding another piece of wood to the fire. “When he wants to he can look downright menacing, and the odds of anyone in this village recognizing him are low.”

Rey knew that he was right, but it was unnerving to split up their party, even temporarily. “Will they have anything to spare?” she asked doubtfully, thinking on what she had learned of taxes and tithes.

“For enough coin, they will.” 

He was quiet, then, and it was several more minutes before either of them spoke. 

“I hate the thought of bringing this news to Leia.” Han said the words so softly Rey almost missed them. It was the first he had spoken of Luke’s betrayal since leaving Ahch-To. “Though if we manage to bring Ben to her… well, that would ease any number of hurts.” _But not all, and not completely_ went unsaid. “She’s going to be heartsick about Lando all over again.”

“Who was he?”

“Her seneschal,” he replied. “He was an administrative genius. Too charming for his own good, always one of the best-dressed courtiers…”

One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “And a good friend. He was a very good friend, and very fond of Ben… which was why it hurt all the more when we thought…”

Han looked down, clearing his throat. “Well.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “One more thing to remember and atone for.” He poked at the fire with a stick, raising sparks. “Will you tell me about my son, Rey?” Han asked, voice low and almost wistful. “Anything.”

“He’s serious, most of the time,” she said after quick consideration. “Well-spoken. And…”

“And?” Han prompted when she trailed off. 

“And stubborn.” Rey shook her head as he chuckled at her annoyed tone. She wanted- _needed_ \- to discuss the future Ben offered, but couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Not aloud. Not to his father. “And very, very eager to wake up.”

“Well-mannered and obstinate; sounds about right.” Han smoothed a gloved hand over his beard, still laughing a little. “How long have you been talking with him?”

“Since I arrived, though for the longest time I thought he was one of Leia’s villagers. We would always meet when I was alone- gathering kindling, or berries, or fetching water at the well.” Rey thought of those weeks, of how shy and kind he had been. “We became friends, of a sort.”

Han was watching the fire, but there was something about his posture that made Rey cautious. He was an insightful man- far more insightful than he let on, most of the time. “‘Of a sort’,” he repeated quietly. “Ben has never been one for shallow relationships with his true friends. ‘Intense’ would be a better word.”

“I-”

“He was also never one for flirting indiscriminately with half the maidens in the court.”

She swallowed, throat dry, and half-heartedly joked, “Just a quarter, then?”

“Hmm.”

Rey tried again, aiming for a casual tone. “He would be eager to talk to anyone, really, after so much time alone.”

Han turned his head toward her just a little, barely enough to slide a discerning look at her. “Leia was right,” he said unexpectedly. 

“About what?”

“We need you in the family.” No smile, no laughter, but there was gentle amusement, there, despite his lingering grief. “How kind of Ben to oblige us.”


	10. caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Sorry for the delay; I came down with the flu and pretty much lost a week in every way possible.

Above, a bird caroled several notes of song before taking off, wings fluttering in the air.

“Stubbornness is a family trait, isn’t it?” Rey said flatly, her question rhetorical. 

“I’m afraid so.” A crease formed between his brows, and his next words were careful. “No one will force you into anything, Rey. As much as I love my son, that’s something I won’t do. I also won’t be angry if you decide to walk away. Neither will Leia.”

Rey nodded slowly. “It’s just… a lot,” she admitted in a mutter, feeling almost overwhelmed just thinking about it. A few months of acceptance and attention couldn’t possibly heal the wounds left from a lifetime of neglect. She wasn’t entirely certain any amount of time could do that.

“I know. The first time I met Leia she insulted my combat abilities and took over my perfectly acceptable rescue mission.” He laughed a little. “ _And_ stole my sword. I was half in love with her before the first day was done.”

She hid her smile. “And Leia?”

“Leia demanded an escort back to her castle, and when I finally delivered her there she kissed me outside the gates and asked me to stay. And I did.” Han shrugged. “We were married before the year was out.”

Rey drew her knees up to her chest, contemplating the flickering fire. “And you never worried about becoming king?”

He snorted. “Plenty. Any levelheaded person would, and the first year was a difficult one.” Han gave her a dry look. “The tutors the castle provided were a snobbish bunch who sniffed in disdain whenever I touched the wrong fork at a meal. I put up with it for Leia’s sake, but we would find a better lot for you. If there’s a need, that is; we may end up hiding in the forest for the rest of our lives.”

Selfishly- for there was no doubt that the kingdom needed far kinder rulers- Rey almost wished that she could have that simpler life. A cottage in the woods, with a vegetable garden and a pair of goats. Evenings spent spinning or knitting by the fire before maybe (possibly) sliding into bed with a large, stubborn man. 

It would be a good life. A happy, manageable one. 

“Is he being too forward?”

Rey thought before answering. “He isn’t forcing himself on me, if that’s what you mean. I’ve just never had anyone… interested… like that. Emotionally.”

“Intense,” Han murmured again, then raised his voice slightly. “Well, if he gives you trouble apply your knee between his legs and tell him his father said to behave.”

She had to laugh at that set of instructions, though she doubted that Ben would ever tempt her to put them in practice. “I will keep that in mind.”

“And next time he looks at you like he used to look at sweets-”

_I wish I knew how he looked at all._

“-tell him if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Rey propped her chin on her knees, the warmth of his words giving her a little more confidence. Han liked her- and amazingly, Han also liked her for Ben. 

“You know that I would still be on this journey even if Ben hated me, right?” she asked after a moment, voice soft.

“I do.” He dug in his pack, pulling out one of the last of the withered apples the nuns had given them. He handed it to her with a quiet, “That’s just your nature, Rey.”

The apple’s flesh was sweet and soft on her tongue, and somehow the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.

\- - -

Nearly a week later- a week of avoiding patrols in the woods, of dreams in which Rey sat next to a cheerful fire while Ben told her folk-tales, of his quiet steps following them close but not close enough as they rode- they stopped for a rest day. Chewie had taken down a deer, and they had found an empty cave to shelter in, and it seemed right to pause and take their ease while they had the chance. 

As the deer roasted, Rey braved the ice-cold water of a nearby creek to clean her spare set of clothing and the cloths she used during her period. Han and Chewie doubtless knew exactly what she laid out to dry over her makeshift clothesline next to the fire, but they never said a word. They barely blinked. 

Admittedly, they hadn’t said anything the first time, near the start of their journey, or any time since. Rey just found it a rather charming oddity, and it was simply one more thing she admired about them both. 

That evening, while she sat sleepy and full next to the fire, Ben made his appearance. He settled beside her, his hand coming to rest on her knee. “I know what I said,” he murmured, voice raw, “but if you could not… not tell them, today.”

She snuggled deeper into her blanket without a word. 

“-but there was that laundry-maid who took a shine to Ben, remember?” Chewie was saying, “He was just five, maybe six, and used to run after her whenever he could escape from his nurses.”

“And went swimming in the bluing vat,” Han chuckled. “Ben always could swim like a fish.”

Ben could only see people she touched, but Rey wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he couldn’t _hear_ her surroundings with or without contact. “He was mischievous, then?”

“No more than most boys,” Chewie said with a shrug. “He was a good child. Intelligent, too- his tutors had to work hard to keep pace with him.”

Beside her Ben almost crumpled. She flicked a glance toward him instinctively as the hand on her knee flexed. Slowly he leaned to the side, his head coming to rest on her lap. His shadows, impenetrable in the firelight, flickered, and for all her words about needing time she didn’t mind the weight of his head on her thigh. This wasn’t any type of courting behavior, or an attempt to sway her feelings: this was Ben hurting, and deeply. 

When she looked up both Han and Chewie were watching her, though Chewie was still speaking, saying something about the stable and barn cats in the loft. 

They guessed, that much was clear, but there was no reason she had to say anything and brush aside Ben’s request. Instead she slipped her fingers into his hair, knowing that while it likely looked odd from her companions’ viewpoint it was a kind of compromise. 

There was a pause- brief, so brief it was barely noticeable at all- and then Han’s mouth quirked into a slight smile. “Do you remember,” he said to Chewie, “when the Hosnian diplomat visited during Ben’s eighth year?”

And the stories flowed on from there, until the fire burned to embers and Ben disappeared from beneath her hand. 

\- - - 

_“What happened?”_

_Ben- not on his feet, like usual, but curled up in a corner- barely moved at the question. “He came back.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Him. The watcher.” He scrubbed the palm of one hand against his doublet. “I could feel him. I think he senses my… my hope.”_

_She knelt beside him, black skirts puddling around her. “Do you think he discovered anything?”_

_“No. I don’t think so.” A pause. “I hope not, but- but I’m not sure how I could tell. Maybe he can read me the way I was able to read you.”_

_Rey slipped her hand into the shadows, cupping his scarred cheek in her palm. He sighed quietly, leaning into her hand. “You’re stronger than him,” she whispered, then licked her dry lips. This was an unexpected complication, and one that made her stomach clench with fear. “Seven years alone, and still so sane, so- so kind.”_

_“I’m not kind,” he muttered grumpily, the corner of his mouth brushing against her skin. “You said so yourself.”_

_“Don’t throw my own words back at me.” She slipped her other hand through shadows, caressing his hair to ease the slight bite to her tone. “Others would be raving or cruel or just absent. You’ve held yourself together so well.”_

_Something wet slid along the palm cupping his cheek: a tear. “I wish…”_

_He trailed off into silence, breathing ragged._

_“I’m coming as fast as I can.”_

_“I know.”_

_By degrees he settled his head in her lap again, hidden tears forming a damp patch on her skirts. If she could have remembered any lullabies, she would have sung one, but instead she took in an unsteady breath and grasped for the next best thing._

_“Once upon a time,” she said quietly, speaking the words aloud for the first time in she wasn’t sure how long, “a wicked stepmother sent her stepdaughter to the well for more water, and while she was there…”_

_He listened as if diamonds and rubies tumbled from her lips, one hand folded around hers._

\- - - 

When they found another burned village, they rode past in grim silence. 

When they found a third, where the smell of smoke still hung in the air and suspiciously human-shaped hillocks waited under fresh snow, Rey barely managed to make it to the woods before she was leaning to the side, retching up her breakfast of porridge. 

When they found the fourth they skirted the still-smoking wreckage, ash settling like snow on their hair and clothing. 

“This isn’t random,” Han muttered when they were once more under cover. “Three settlements in a row, all arrowing north- they’re searching for something.”

“Us.” Chewie’s one word, quiet as it was, almost seemed to echo in the silent stretch of woods. “Perhaps we were spotted by some patrol, or Snoke divined our intent by magical means.”

It took Rey a moment to speak around the lump in her throat. “Ben thought that someone might have been watching his dreams. He didn’t think they found anything worthwhile, but-”

“But maybe they found enough to worry,” Han finished when she hesitated, then spat out a particularly vicious curse before urging Falcon on. 

Rey gripped the reins tightly, tasting panic-driven copper in her mouth. All those people, all those lives cut short- and for what? To keep Ben imprisoned in sleep? To hold on to an already well-secured throne?

_Because of me. I fell into this world like a meteor, like a stone in a pond, and disrupted everything and everyone-_

A hand grabbed her wrist. “This isn’t your fault,” Han told her bluntly when she looked up, wild-eyed. “Don’t take that upon yourself, Rey.”

“I should have told you earlier,” she whispered, hands white-knuckled. 

“Wouldn’t have done any good.” He released her wrist. “Wouldn’t have changed a thing. They’d still be ahead of us, and they’d still be searching.” Han’s expression softened, slightly. “And it’s no bad thing to keep quiet what Ben tells you in confidence.”

She thought of Ben’s despair, of his tears, and consciously tried to loosen her grip on the reins. “What are we going to do?”

Around them the forest began to sound more alive as they moved further and further from ruin, and her tension eased a little more. Birds did not sing around predators, and there, in the distance- an ambling cluster of deer, unconcerned with danger. 

“Be more cautious.” Han gave her a poor imitation of a smile. “Chewie will have to keep his songs to himself, for the time being.”

Chewie, who _did_ occasionally sing as they rode along, scoffed. “A good tune makes long roads short, my friend,” he replied. “He’s right, though- use your words sparingly. We’ve entered enemy territory in truth, now.”

_How many more villages? How many more dead?_

Rey pulled her hood further forward, stomach roiling. 

\- - -

They had been sleeping in shifts ever since leaving Ahch-To, but for the first time Rey felt tense as she sat beside their small fire, keeping her senses tuned to the woods around them. When she felt the soundless twist which heralded Ben’s arrival, she was so focused that she automatically flinched, mouth opening to sound the alarm, before her mind caught up with her body.

_Safe,_ she thought, heart pounding. _Just Ben._

He spoke in a murmur, perhaps reading her body language. “Sweetheart?”

“I can’t talk tonight,” she told him, words barely audible. “I’m on watch.”

That had never stopped them from talking before, albeit very quietly, but he accepted her decree without question. For a few minutes he lingered several feet away, arms crossed over his chest- and then he was moving toward her, feet silent on the snow. 

“Let me keep you warm,” he said as he settled behind her, long legs to either side of her hips. 

With his chest against her back and one arm around her waist- _warm, safe, not alone_ \- she released a shuddering breath. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“I won’t.” The caress of his nose against her hair was definitely a nuzzle. “You just watch.”

And she did, heart-rate slowing to something closer to normal as he kept a silent vigil with her. 

And when Chewie woke to take her place, Ben waited until she was tucked in her bedroll before curling up behind her, his warmth lulling her to uncomplicated sleep. 

\- - -

Han plucked her saddlebags from her hands before she could attach them to Astra’s saddle. “Change of plans,” he said, opening one to slip a small, jingling pouch inside. “Chewie, hand me that packet of journey-bread, please.”

“What are you doing?” Rey asked, watching warily as he tied the saddlebags to Falcon’s saddle before shortening the stirrups. “Han?”

“You’ve still got your own flint, right?” he asked without answering. 

“Yes, but-”

“Still have a good sense of direction on Ben?”

“Yes.” Scowling- because if she didn’t show anger, she sincerely felt she might cry- Rey stepped up beside him. “Are you sending me off on my own?”

“I hope not.” He leveled a serious look on her, pausing in his work. “It’s the last thing I want to do, but if we get split up for any reason I want you on Falcon’s back.”

“Why?”

“Because Falcon can carry two.” Behind him, Chewie nodded as he finished readying Kashyyyk. “If we get ambushed, I want you to run, do you understand? No staying to fight, no indecision- you bolt north immediately.”

Crying was beginning to look like a sad inevitability. “I can’t leave you. Either of you.”

“Yes, you can.” Han grinned crookedly, a bit of the rogue glimmering in his eyes. “Do you think we’re going to get taken down by a bunch of dread knights? I’ve faced worse than that over tea at the palace.”

This was not abandonment, but a part of her mind was determined to read it as such. _Don’t cry, dammit,_ Rey ordered herself as she carefully, secretly, pinched the skin of her inner arm hard. The pain stiffened her back and forced her quivering mouth flat. “So I run off, find Ben, and-”

“And we meet you back at the village.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “We would need to switch mounts after finding Ben, anyway,” Han added in a cajoling tone. “No guarantee there will be a horse to steal for him wherever he is, and he might not be able to ride on his own at first. You’re the only person light enough to double with him; might as well get used to Falcon now.” 

Slowly, she nodded once- and then was pulled into a brief, hard hug, which nearly shattered her hard-won defenses. “Thank you,” he said gruffly as he released her. “Let’s ride.”

Falcon was taller than Astra- disconcertingly so, which was no bad thing given her emotional state and need for a distraction- but his back was reassuringly wide. The horse’s ears flicked questioningly when Rey settled into the saddle, but that was the extent of his reaction to a new rider. 

“Rey,” Han said quietly after they were away, “if we do get separated, and you find Ben… if a rescue is too dangerous by yourself, don’t try.”

“Han-”

“We can always make another attempt. We won’t find another you.” Han shot her a brief look. “I think Ben would agree. And Leia.”

“As do I,” Chewie added in a low rumble. “Keeping you safe is just as important as finding Ben.”

“Is it?” she asked in a whisper almost despite herself. _No tears._

“Of course it is,” he answered. “We’re fond of our Rey, aren’t we, Han?”

“Very.” Barely any gruffness in Han’s voice, now. “She’s a keeper.”

\- - -

In the end, despite their caution, despite every hope and prayer to unnamed deities, despite Han and Chewie’s combined expertise at traveling covertly, their luck eventually ran out. While crossing a seemingly safe meadow an arrow whistled past Rey’s head, and before her mind could even make sense of the foreign sound Han’s hand slapped down on Falcon’s hindquarters, sending the horse bolting for the trees- for the trees, and away from the armed men suddenly springing into view with bows stretched and blades unsheathed. 

Rey hung on to Falcon with hands and legs alike, not even trying to slow the horse’s flight. Pain sliced across her right calf and she bit back a shout, nearly plastering herself to Falcon’s back instead as they plunged into the forest. 

Behind her, the clanging of steel and outraged shouts made her heart catch in her throat. _Run,_ Han had said, and on the back of his frantic horse she had no choice in the matter. 

_Don’t die,_ was all she could think in frustrated fear as Falcon pelted away, giving the horse his head until they were well clear of the fight. _Don’t you dare die._

_Outnumbered,_ a far more logical part of her mind insisted on thinking. _No armor._

Tears dripping down her cheeks unimpeded, Rey was born ever more north.


	11. sparrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... might have had too much fun with this.

She should have been followed. Rey had only gotten a brief impression of the number of ambushers, but there had surely been enough to send one or two after her- unless one lone woman perched on a horse too big for her hadn’t seemed a threat. 

_Perhaps they expect the cold to finish me off,_ Rey thought with no little bewilderment, casting a glance over her shoulder. _You would think they would follow to grab Falcon, at the very least._

Or Han and Chewie had led the group on a merry chase in the other direction, laughing all the way, and their attackers were so thrilled by the idea of capturing the former king that they had forgotten all about her.

_Please. Please let that be the case._

But in the end, the _how_ hardly mattered. Han had wanted her to flee, on Falcon, and now she was with only a line of throbbing fire along her calf for their troubles. _Not poisoned,_ she thought grimly. _I refuse. I-_

She ran- or Falcon ran, with his clinging burden, and Rey wished desperately for Ben’s quiet voice in her ear and his warmth against her back. 

\- - -

“Not poisoned,” Rey murmured in relief when she finally felt safe enough to stop Falcon for a moment. Undressing was a bridge too far, but she was able to peek through her slashed clothing and plaster a good amount of Leia’s salve on the wound. Just a graze, really ( _you could still have tetanus_ ), but she would be fine and Han and Chewie would be fine and everyone would be just fine. 

_That won’t be the only band of soldiers,_ came the nagging thought. _There will be others, between me and Ben- men more dangerous than Plutt ever was, all too happy to separate my head from my neck._

Biting back a hiss of pain, Rey resettled herself in the saddle. “Wish I actually had magic,” she muttered, recalling Luke’s words. “I just have an unnatural skill with a dagger and a gloomy prince in my head.”

A silvery, cold laugh answered those words, and beneath Rey Falcon pranced several steps to the left, tossing his head nervously. Rey could hardly blame the horse; had she been on the ground she might have done some skittering herself. As it was, her body responded with pain, panic clawing at her throat and rippling along her skin.

The woman- impossibly tall, clad in white and barefoot- stepped from a stand of silver birches in such a way that Rey thought that maybe, maybe, only seconds before _she_ had been one of their number. No one had told her there were dryads, or forest spirits, or whatever now eyed her with curious malice. Just ghosts, and ghosts were bad enough.

“Of course you have magic,” the woman said, mouth curling into a humorless smile. “You’re just dripping with it. That man who calls himself king could gorge himself on you and not run dry for years.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “There are worse fates than that,” she offered, as if discussing the weather. “He would build you such a pretty cage, little sparrow. He might be willing to make you Queen, with all that magic at his disposal- imagine the heir you could give him.”

Rey’s stomach soured. Suddenly, being executed by a bunch of soldiers in the middle of the woods was a preferable option. “No, thank you,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even. _Be polite,_ her mother’s stories had taught her. _Offer no insult, no lies._ “Are you hungry, my lady?” Rey asked, hands clenched white-knuckled around the reins. “I have bread if you wish to eat.”

The words were stilted, but they were all she could seem to muster. The woman’s laugh in response sounded almost mocking. “ _My lady_. I am no lady, sparrow, and I have no interest in your bread.” She took several steps toward Rey, bare feet sinking into the snow as if it were a plush carpet. “And bread will do you little good, hunted as you are. Even that dagger would be small protection against the predators searching for you.”

Predators all around, and one predator standing right in front of her. “Are you here to offer aid, then?”

“I could,” the woman surprised her by saying, and Rey had the sense that she had already made up her mind and was now toying with her. “It might be amusing, shepherding you safely to your destination. It might be amusing to allow the trees to take the men who search for you.” Cold humor crept into her expression. “Much as they took the two who followed you after the ambush.”

Rey tried not to show how unsettling she found those words, and tried not to think on how, exactly, trees could ‘take’ a person. “I thank the trees for their help.”

The woman placed one hand on a sturdy, snow-dusted trunk, eyes still on Rey. “Trees are often fond of sparrows,” she said cryptically. “Less so of men with axes.”

That was… fair, Rey supposed. 

“Perhaps you should follow me,” the woman said after a long moment, fingertips caressing the bark. “I’m also fond of sparrows, in my own way. And I’ve lost much to the king’s axes, so I am less fond of him.”

_She’s not promising protection,_ Rey thought rapidly. _She could just as easily lead me into a trap._

Not that she had a better option, really. 

The woman nodded once and turned away, accepting Rey’s silence as an answer. “Come along, then,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s time for small sparrows to seek safer nests.”

She walked on, and- silently calling herself every manner of fool- Rey followed. 

\- - -

What animals they met regarded the spirit as one of their own. Deer held their ground, birds sang, and when they came across a silver-furred rabbit it merely raised its head and twitched its whiskers. Even Falcon calmed quickly after the initial shock, following at the woman’s heels like a devoted hound. 

Rey stayed quiet, feeling that conversation would be unwise. She had questions- a multitude of them- but the woman striding through the snow did not seem to welcome any kind of spoken overture. Did not, as far as Rey could tell, pay any attention to her at all- but when the atmosphere twisted soundlessly she stopped to look behind her. 

“Prince.”

Ben, who had a hand lifted to reach for Rey, froze. 

“Look at you, bound by the dark.” The woman raised an eyebrow, her gaze so fixed on the shadows that Rey wondered if she could see through them. “That curse hooked deep, didn’t it? It found the darkness of your frustration and fear and used it against you.”

Ben’s hand shook, arm drooping, and he exhaled a rough breath. 

“Must you?” Rey asked, voice tense. 

“He’s a hawk, little sparrow. He’ll pluck you from the sky if you aren’t careful.” She shot Ben a dismissive look. “Follow if you like.”

Ben closed the slight distance between himself and Rey when the woman turned, his hand closing around her booted ankle. “You’re injured,” he murmured shakily, keeping pace with Falcon. 

“Just a graze.” Her own words were barely audible, though she needn’t have bothered- Rey had the sense that the woman leading them could hear even the slightest sound. 

“My father…?”

“I don’t know. We were ambushed.”

He made a quiet noise that put Rey in mind of a wounded animal, and she released the reins long enough to briefly touch her gloved hand to his head. His shadows licked at her wound, the feel almost comforting.

“You aren’t prey,” Ben said finally, as though grasping for something, anything to say, and the woman ahead scoffed. 

“You’re all prey,” she said, words heavy with years upon years of changing seasons and slow growth. Rey’s breath caught in her throat at this peek through the veil, as icy condescension fell away and power unfurled, unyielding and ancient and somehow still vibrantly green. “Some more than others.”

No small spirit, this woman. In comparison to her Rey truly was a sparrow, fragile and a mere speck in the sky. Ben was just the shadow of a single sapling. The drama they were embroiled in was no more important than the scurrying of ants.

_I would like a ghost instead, please,_ she found herself thinking, her mount still placidly following this forest in a woman’s guise. _A wailing ghost; that would be much more manageable._

A male voice rang out in the distance, mixed with the crunch of boots on snow and rough laughter. The woman did not miss a single step, or even alter her course- she pushed ahead, her fur-trimmed white cloak swaying with every movement. “Predators,” she said evenly, and a sharp scream cut through the air, followed by shouts and the sounds of terrified horses. “And prey.”

As the sound of carnage dragged on (Rey had felt safe in the woods once, had dozed happily beneath the spreading trees near Leia’s home, and now _this_ ), the woman continued to speak. “I could set you an impossible task, I suppose. I could ask you to separate lentils from ashes, or to find summer berries under the snow, or to drink the sea dry, but I’m an impatient spirit.”

All sound cut off abruptly, the silence so eerie and horrifying that Rey’s own breath nearly echoed in the expanse. Without thinking about it she dropped one hand to Ben’s shoulder, clutching at his doublet. 

“And the woods are so very angry.” The spirit raised her hand, trailing fingertips over a delicate, spindly tree. “I would keep that in mind, princeling, should you ever take the throne,” she said quietly. “We’ll only suffer the ax for so long.”

“Understandable,” Ben replied with a surprising amount of composure, his shoulder tense under Rey’s hand. “I will relay that warning, my lady.”

“Phasma.” A brittle, sharp laugh. “Not my true name, but one that will do well enough- and you humans do love to put names to things, don’t you?”

They reached the edge of the forest, passing by a blood-spattered hollow that had Rey quickly averting her gaze. It was almost a relief to come to open sky, or it was until she realized that the sweep of land in front of them was unnaturally bare for as far as her eye could see. 

Good timber, Han had said. Gone now, every branch.

“Here is where I leave you, sparrow.” Phasma stood under the shadow of a large tree, and as Rey watched the outline of her form almost seemed to bleed into the ax-scarred trunk. “Fly fast.”

And then she was gone, and in unison both Rey and Ben released long, shaky breaths. “Terrifying,” he said.

Rey was tempted to dismount- wanting, she realized, a comforting hug- but had the distinct sense that her legs wouldn’t hold her. “Yes.”

He leaned his head against her knee, breath still coming fast. “Sweetheart.”

There was a great deal unsaid in that one endearment. “Would you-” 

She licked her lips nervously, pressing a hand to her unsettled stomach. “Can you mount behind me?”

He did so without a word, and if there was any change in weight Falcon gave no sign. She felt a little better with his solid form at her back, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist. “There are stories,” he murmured as Falcon began to cross the open expanse, picking his way between stumps. “Legends.”

“I don’t think you can call her a legend anymore.”

“No.” Ben paused. “No, not at all.”

“Do all of your forests have guardians?” Rey asked quietly, scanning the horizon. Empty. 

“If they do, those guardians must keep themselves hidden from view.” He sounded deeply uneasy. “My uncle and I hid in that stretch of forest, once. We managed to stay for nearly half a year before our pursuers forced us to move on.”

“And you never sensed anything?”

“No.” Another pause. “It was the longest we ever stayed anywhere. Perhaps… perhaps she hid us, for just a while. Because it amused her, or served some purpose.”

“Perhaps.” 

They crested one rolling hill before he spoke again, voice heavy. “My father sent you on alone, didn’t he? You didn’t run of your own accord.”

“No, I didn’t.” The ache of Han and Chewie’s unknown fate built in her again, replacing the nervous energy left from her time with Phasma. “I don’t think I could have turned Falcon around under my own power- your father sent him running, and I was just along for the ride.”

Ben pressed his face to the crook of her neck, the tip of his nose burrowing through layers to touch her skin. “I should have spoken with him that night,” he said, but she didn’t think the words were meant for her: they were a sorrow-laden wish, and one he might not have meant to speak aloud.

“You’ll speak with him again,” was all she could say, and sent up her own wish that she was speaking the truth.

\- - -

A tower came into view in the distance, and at first sight certainty settled solidly in Rey’s bones. “There you are.”

“There I am.” He sounded almost puzzled, and a little angry. “ _There._ ”

“You know the place.”

“A small, remote manor from my great-great-grandmother’s time- she loved the stars; that tower was built for her.” He exhaled, one hand flattening against her belly in an unconscious gesture. “My grandmother used to meet my grandfather there, stealing away for a handful of days whenever she could. It was abandoned after she died.”

“Can you tell me anything about it? Entrances? Secret tunnels?” 

“No.” His grip on her seemed to grow less solid. “I can’t hold on.”

_Don’t make me do this alone,_ she wanted to say, and bit back the words. There was nothing she could do to keep him with her, nothing to say other than “I’m coming for you.”

He disappeared, cold wind cutting through any lingering warmth at her back. “Here we go, then,” she murmured, patting Falcon’s neck. “Quiet steps, okay?”

The empty, deforested land did not go straight to the manor’s front door: a band of thick trees remained around the property, shielding all but the top of the tower from view. There would be men there, or traps, or magic waiting to snare her- but when she entered the mass of trees, something else waited.

Silence. Silence and churned, muddy snow, with a hint of red cloth peeking out from under tree roots. A sparrow settled on a low branch, watching her with bright eyes. 

“Thank you,” Rey managed to whisper, and watched as the sparrow took wing. 

The closer she came to the manor, the more littered the ground: bits of tack, dropped swords, torn cloth. Another sparrow shot past her ear and Falcon, on alert, snorted with a shake of his head and a jangle of his bridle. Gray stone came into view through branches of evergreen, slowly becoming clearer until there were no more trees and only a short length of open ground separated her from a building overgrown with ivy.

Dismounting, she ground tied Falcon before giving his neck an impromptu hug. “Wait for me,” she murmured into his mane, nerves creating a wave of goosebumps over her arms. “Please.”

Taking the first step on her own felt all too much like stepping onto a minefield. Step after step after step, the dagger in one hand as her boots broke through the upper crust of snow. _And when the prince approached the castle,_ she could almost hear her mother saying, _the enchanted vines barred his way, but they yielded to the might of his sword._

No vines for Rey. Strands of ivy dangled in front of the door, but it showed no desire to snake through her hair or grab her wrists. 

_As he passed through the great hall, he walked by the sleeping servants and the snoring nobles, by the guards and the spotted hound chasing a rabbit in its dreams, paws twitching._

The door opened noisily under her hand. Inside a fire still burned in the hearth, the scent of burning stew hitting her immediately. Rey followed the tug through the empty guardroom, through a ravaged parlor with mouse-eaten upholstery on the rickety couch, to stairs that spiraled ever up. 

_And there, in the tower, he found the princess sleeping, and his life changed in an instant._

She didn’t bother to check the door at the first landing, or the second; it wasn’t until the fourth that she stopped and slipped the dagger back into its sheath. Pulling off her gloves, she hesitated before pressing one hand to the worn wood. “Are you ready?” Rey murmured, unsure if she was speaking to herself or to Ben. “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” she added after a moment, mouth quirking into a slight smile. “I can’t exactly turn back now.”

The door swung open, sending up a wave of dust highlighted by a ray of late afternoon sun. No one had been in the room in years, save for the still figure resting on a tattered coverlet. Shadows still obscured his features, but only the shadows cast by the remains of heavy velvet drapes at the head of the bed. His moth-eaten clothing resolved first as she crept forward, then the pale hands resting on a chest animated by slow, deep breaths, and finally- _finally_ \- the face she had waited so long to see. 

“Oh,” she heard herself say, breath escaping in a rush. “Oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite parts of The Two Towers is (spoilers) when the Ents finally lose their temper and just go to town on Saruman's whole operation, hence my inspiration for Phasma's role. You come at the forest guardian, you best not miss.


	12. sleep

Rey wasn’t entirely sure what she had been expecting- a young Han, perhaps, or Leia’s elegant features rendered masculine- but what she found was somehow better. 

_Soft, in sleep,_ she thought, stepping up to the side of the bed. Soft, and almost fragile despite his size. Her fingertips itched to touch the scar running down one cheek, to brush over his perfect lower lip, but she held still, drinking him in. If one could ignore the dust, the cobwebs, the moth-eaten state of his clothing, he would look as if he had just laid down fresh from a bath. No beard or stubble, no odor, no sign that he had spent seven years ensorceled. He breathed, but was otherwise held in stasis.

“I doubt you’ve aged a day,” Rey murmured, digging a not entirely clean handkerchief from one pocket. “You look… you don’t look thirty. You should have choked on the dust, or-”

Instead of continuing that thought, she began to tenderly wipe years of grime from his face. She didn’t have time, not really- a lone soldier, or even an entire squadron might have escaped Phasma’s wrath, and her mount waited in the cold- but it hurt her a little to see him so neglected. 

“You’re a pouter, aren’t you?” she asked, carefully swabbing out one ear. A part of Rey had hoped that her mere presence would wake him up, but he didn’t even twitch under her ministrations. “A mouth like that, you probably can’t help it- and I probably shouldn’t like it, but I think I’m going to. Tall as you are, pouting like… like a sad puppy. I wish you were here to argue with me, give me a hint… do I need herbs?” She slipped one hand over his hair, brushing away clinging cobwebs and a curious spider. “Do I need to sacrifice a chicken? Rose taught me how to kill one, though whether your guards kept any is the question.”

Silence. 

“You realize that if I can’t wake you up, I’ll be forced to drag your unconscious body behind Falcon all the way to your mother.” She kept her tone conversational, though the idea was more than a little horrifying. Such a spectacle was bound to attract attention, and she had no idea how far this tower was from Leia’s home. “I will, you know. You would be soaking wet and covered in bruises by the end of the first day, but I would do it.”

Not even a flutter of his eyelashes. 

She stuffed the handkerchief back into her pocket, feeling sudden nerves. “There is the traditional way,” she muttered. “Though I doubt my traditional way is yours. And I should really be asking permission before attempting this.”

Rey eyed him, considering every caress and velvet-soft word he had bent on her during their very odd acquaintance. 

“Still.” Her breathing seemed to echo in the room. “It would be polite to ask. But I can’t wait until your… your spirit self decides to show up.”

The way the light through the window tilted dusky gold decided her. Night was quickly coming, and they needed to be anywhere but the tower as soon as possible- and she only knew one way, really, to wake up a fairy tale prince.

“Hopefully the sanitized version works.” Rey scrubbed her palms against her trousers. “Because the original Sleeping Beauty… well, we wouldn’t want to emulate that.”

Before she could lose her nerve, she leaned over him to press a kiss to his lips, intending it to be so fast and brief as to be practically nonexistent.

Her intentions, however, were dashed when she found herself caught in suspension the moment her lips touched his, a web of power snapping shut around her. 

_Trap._ Her limbs, as fixed as stone, refused to move, and little by little feeling faded away until the faint whisper of Ben’s breath against her mouth was all that was left to her. 

_Stuck here for eternity,_ was her panicked thought. _Or until I die, or-_

_No._ She hadn’t endured starvation and illness and uncertainty to lose her life in this tower, in this way. She hadn’t found people willing to claim her only to lose everything to magic.

_No. I refuse._

Panic was swept away by determination and a rush of _something_ that Rey couldn’t identify, shattering the invisible bonds and briefly dazzling her eyes with prismatic light. Faintly she felt Ben’s breathing turn irregular against her skin before she was stumbling back, gasping for air. Every hair on her arms seemed to be standing on end, every nerve prickled, and if that was how her magic worked then Rey wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to use it again because it _hurt._

But then Ben’s eyelashes fluttered.

His fingers flexed. 

And- just like that- he woke, and her own discomfort was a small, small thing. 

“Rey.” He spoke before his eyes even finished focusing on her, voice hoarse and raspy. “Rey.”

She hadn’t appreciated her name on his tongue the one time he had dared to speak it before; now that one syllable she had answered to all her life seemed to take on new dimensions, new promise. “Ben.” Ben, with brown eyes and beauty marks she wanted to map. 

He took in a deep breath and then began to cough, an annoyed expression appearing on his face. “Might have swallowed a spider,” he muttered, trying to sit up and failing.

“More than a few, I would think.” Rey was proud of the light, controlled tone she managed, though she had to repress a nervous laugh as she worked an arm under his shoulders. She had threatened to drag him all the way home and now recognized it for the empty threat it had been. “Try again.”

It took three times to get him into a sitting position as muscles that had been maintained by magic tried to remember how, exactly, moving worked. “I don’t know how we’re going to get you in the saddle,” she half-teased. Ben grunted in response as he slowly moved his legs to the edge of the bed. “Tall, strapping man that you are.”

His eyes caught hers- for the first time, truly caught hers- and she stilled instinctively. 

Intense, Han had said. Intense was too light a word for the way Ben looked at her, and they were so close that it would be the work of a moment to kiss him for a second time. 

“Rey.” His mouth curved into a genuine smile, lightening the irritation he clearly felt at his own body’s sluggishness. “You can see me.”

“Yes.” Her mouth was desert dry.

“Are you disappointed?”

Careful words, those. “No.”

“No?”

“Why would I be?”

She suspected that at any other time he might have given her a list, but that he, too, was caught up in the moment. His expression softened further, though the intensity remained. “Rey.” He placed his feet on the floor, hands on her shoulders. “I may never get tired of saying your name.”

Ben stood, and for a handful of seconds she staggered under his weight as he fought to stay standing. “Rey.” He spoke her name as if it focused him, his eyes still on her. “My lovely Rey.” 

His use of the possessive tugged at her heart, but she responded sternly, “We’re in enemy territory and running out of time.” 

“I know.” He lifted his hands cautiously from her shoulders, testing his balance. “I- I really wasn’t expecting this.”

Rey assumed he meant his body’s betrayal, but for all she knew he could be speaking of her. “I know.”

“I promise that I can normally move without falling on my face.” He began walking cautiously across the room to the door, listing and weaving like a drunkard. She followed, trying not to imagine him toppling down the winding stairs. “Rey.”

“Ben.”

He chuckled quietly, clutching at the door-frame. “Rey.”

“If you fall down those stairs I’ll never forgive you.”

He gave her a long, searching look, and then nodded. With all the grace of a toddler he lowered himself to the floor, only to turn and crawl down the steps backward- which was not the solution she had been envisioning, but certainly reassured her anxiety. 

“Snoke’s magic caught you for a moment, didn’t it?” he asked as he continued to traverse the steps, far more sure on hands and knees than he had been on two feet. “But you won.”

She shivered at the memory of frozen limbs and despair, but answered levelly, “I did… something.”

“You’re amazing.”

Rey blushed at the unexpected compliment, only to have her blush deepen when he said, “You’ll have to tell me how you broke the curse.”

“Trade secret.” She scowled when he looked up at her with an amused, far too knowing expression. “Keep crawling, Your Highness.”

“I’m going to find out.”

One too many intense eye-locks and he probably would. Simply looking at his tall, solid form at her feet was nearly enough to make her talk. “Hurry up.”

“Rey.” Her name that time was a murmur, and not really meant for her. “Lovely Rey.”

He was going to break through her defenses with all the subtlety and brute force of a careening semi, and she almost didn’t care. 

\- - -

Getting outdoors was a trial, but by the time they made it to Falcon he had enough control of himself to mount behind her with some measure of confidence. Ben practically plastered himself against her back, even more of a furnace in real life than he had been in his spirit form. “Where are we going?”

“Away.” They were still alone, but Rey didn’t want to meet anyone, even- or perhaps especially- Phasma. One encounter with her was enough. “And then to your mother.”

“Hmm.” He pressed his face against her bulky scarf, arms wrapped firmly around her waist. “I can draw you a map.”

That was a relief. “After we stop.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Ben said, already sounding drowsy- but then, he had exerted himself more in the last hour than he had in years. Eventually his stamina would return, and she suspected with it would come a more serious demeanor and a desire to find his father. 

“You have to sleep.” 

And if he didn’t wake up… well, she would kiss him again.

_What a sacrifice,_ she thought dryly. 

“We should have at least two children, I think,” he mumbled, fatigue seeming to loosen his tongue. “Or more. More would be nice.” Underneath his languid tone there was the kind of certainty that went with baby names and tiny booties. “Just think about it,” Ben continued. “I won’t be disappearing anymore.” 

She had known that particular fact, but had never quite stopped to consider the ramifications of it. Ben with her every hour of the day, his expressive face watching her in sun and firelight alike. 

_I hope he doesn’t hate me by the end of this,_ she thought, biting her lower lip. Though if he did, that would certainly answer any lingering questions about his intentions. This extended time alone might very well be the making or breaking of whatever their relationship was, and she would have appreciated the opportunity more if it hadn’t come at a cost. 

_They’ll be waiting,_ she told herself firmly. _We’ll ride up to Leia’s home and find them drinking spiked tea, and then-_

Rey thought she knew what would happen after that. Even if the Solos loved her- and she believed that they did, though that belief was still a new and fragile thing- the miraculous return of a long-lost son would demand their attention.

_And that’s right and proper,_ she thought as that same miracle lifted his head from her shoulder. _I’ll settle Falcon in the stable, and visit with Kaydel, or Rose, and…_

They broke through the band of trees and started across the deforested zone, angling away from where they had left Phasma. True night was falling quickly around them, the light of the full moon spilling generously over previously undisturbed snow. 

“We’ll need to stop sooner than I would like,” Rey said quietly. “It’s been a long day for Falcon- for all of us.”

Even burdened by two riders, Falcon made better time than they would on foot. And Ben, though warming her spectacularly, would need to sit by a fire. Rey had snatched a few articles of clothing from the guardroom on their way out, but the largest cloak she had been able to find wasn’t quite big enough for him. At some point they would need to stop for supplies, and hopefully they would be able to acquire better clothing for him when they did.

“We’re a little more than a hard day’s ride from the capital,” Ben informed her with a yawn. “And our… friend… seems to have cleared out every enemy in the area.”

True enough, but-

“Would he feel the curse breaking?” she asked, the idea nagging at her. “Surely he wouldn’t just deposit you in the middle of nowhere with no way to tell if you woke up.”

His grip tightened slightly, and after a moment he said grimly, “You’re right.” 

“Can he find you?”

Ben sounded much more awake when he answered. “If he had any sense at all he would have taken some of my hair or blood. There are charms, spells, that would allow him to track me with either.”

And it had been at least an hour since Rey had brought Ben back to consciousness, possibly a little more. “Those charms are already in play, aren’t they?”

“They don’t take very long to create. Look.” His hand moved to her thigh, where he began to trace a rudimentary map. “Anakin’s woods are here,” Ben said, tapping lightly near her knee. “You took a meandering path to Ahch-To-”

He drew a line west, up her thigh. “-and then went north-east to find me.”

“We made an uneven triangle,” she murmured. “We aren’t that far from Leia, are we?”

“Almost two days to the most northern point of the woods, and from there another two, maybe three days of travel to the village.”

“Will they follow us inside?” 

“No.” He huffed a humorless laugh. “I told you that there are legends about Phasma, legends Snoke and his men clearly felt were safe to ignore. To them she’s a children’s story. He’ll have a much harder time convincing his men to follow us into Anakin’s territory.”

She considered that for a moment. “And what about us?”

His hesitation was confirmation of his own uncertainty. “We’ll have to hope that he’s kindly disposed to all of his descendants,” Ben said finally. 

“Well.” Rey took in a breath, steeling herself. “I’d rather risk being torn apart by your grandfather’s ghost, wouldn’t you?”

Another small laugh. “ _Yes._ ”

“Then we’ll just have to stay a step ahead of our hunters,” she said with more confidence than she really felt.

“Yes.” His voice warmed, and she felt what might have been a kiss against her thick woolen hat. “Yes we will, sweetheart.”

\- - -

They stopped several hours later, settling in a hollow bordered by trees and, on one side, by a steep, rocky hill. “I’ll take first shift,” Rey informed Ben as she laid out her bedroll next to their small fire. He eyed it balefully, a hint of that pout she had predicted on his face. “You’re going to wake up, Ben,” she told him, guessing that all too natural fear was behind the expression. “I promise.”

He glanced to her, and then back to the bedding. “Will you stay with me?”

Rey had intended to sit on the other side of the fire, but at his words she sat at one end of the blankets. “I’ll stay.”

She wasn’t surprised when he situated himself with his head on her lap. “Rey.”

His hair peeked out from under the shapeless hat, inviting her touch. She ignored the temptation, but continued to watch him instead of the trees around them. “Yes, Ben?”

“Tell me how you broke the curse.”

A small smile tugged at her mouth. “No.”

“Did you break spectral chains?” He, too, smiled, his tone gently teasing. “Did you sing a song of great power?”

“Perhaps I simply shook your shoulder and told you to get up, already.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Ben closed his eyes, smile shifting to a smirk. “Rey.”

“Go to sleep, Ben.”

He was out within minutes, leaving Rey to her thoughts and her surveillance of the area around them, though she kept sneaking peeks at his face.

_I did it._

They were being hunted, and the impossible task of taking back a kingdom lay ahead of them, but in that one moment she allowed herself to revel in her victory. She- Rey, of nowhere and no one- had broken a curse. An actual, proper curse, and she had done it with a kiss and a burst of power that she still didn’t understand. The proof slumbered under her blankets and a stolen cloak, head pillowed on her lap.

It struck her, suddenly, that her calf no longer ached- that the wound, in fact, hadn’t given her trouble in hours. Careful not to wake Ben, she peered through the slash in her clothing in the flickering firelight. Under smeared, bloody salve there was only a thin white line.

_A side-effect of the magic?_ That was the only possible explanation Rey could come up with- unless, of course, Leia had mixed some magic of her own into the salve. 

Ben sighed in his sleep, and she curved one hand around the back of his head. In a few hours she would wake him. In a few hours she would take her own short rest.

And after that, they would run as fast and as far as Falcon could safely carry them.


	13. invisible

Rey had not copied Ben by finding her own rest with her head pillowed on his thigh. It would have been too intimate, too tempting- and while she still had Leia’s contraceptive tea in one bag, she wasn’t willing to take even so small a step toward needing it. 

Not yet, anyway.

Her dreams, though, of cuddling skin to skin in a comfortable bed argued that some part of her disagreed.

Far too soon he was shaking her awake, their small fire already extinguished. “We need to be on our way,” he informed her quietly, his tone more serious than it had been since before she had woken him up. “We’ll have time to rest in the forest.”

“With a ghost watching us?” she mumbled, untangling herself from the thick woolen blankets. A glance told her that Falcon looked rested and fed, and that everything other than the bedroll was tucked away and attached to the saddle. He had been busy, then, allowing her a few more precious minutes of sleep. 

“Presumably he wants his line to continue, so I doubt he’ll tear out our hearts the moment night falls,” Ben said dryly, but there was a soft note to his voice. “Do you want me to take the reins, sweetheart? You could sleep for a few more hours- I won’t let you fall.”

Rey blinked at the unexpected offer, cheeks heating with a blush. “We don’t have time for me to nap,” she answered, a little flustered. She began to roll up the blankets into a compact bundle. “We need to move quickly, and find some farmer willing to give us grain and a cloak that actually covers you.”

And food. Once Ben’s appetite returned, Rey suspected his intake would rival Chewie’s. They might have to live on pea pottage and the occasional rabbit until they reached Leia, but she had lived on far less. 

Ben was murmuring something to Falcon when she brought over the bedroll, his long fingers petting the horse’s neck soothingly. “He names all of his horses Falcon,” he offered as she stowed the bundle, the words quiet with memory. “And they’ve all been stronger and braver than most seasoned knights.” 

Before sleep he had been loose, even a little giddy in his speech and initial repetition of her name. Now he was all restrained emotion and hints of grief, the barest quiver to his lower lip. “He was right to send you on this one’s back.” Ben met her gaze, grave and somehow older thanks to the shadow of new stubble. “One more thing to thank him for, when I see him again.”

Rey had the sense that his words could be meant to include in life or in death, but before she could truly react he had taken her by the waist and lifted her easily into the saddle, keeping his grip until she was securely seated. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, gritting the words out more from shock than true irritation. 

“So you say,” Ben said as he mounted behind her, his low tone turning teasing. He could hide his feelings well, when he wanted. “Very polite, love.” Again, his arms wrapped securely around her; again, his cheek rested against the side of her head. “We should still have several hours on the soldiers, so find your farmer- preferably one with a bevy of pretty daughters, so I can show you just how little I care.”

“I should hope you _don’t_ care,” she said tartly. “A fine mess you would be in, if you fell in love with some milkmaid and was murdered in front of her horrified eyes less than a day later. Not that we have time for you to flirt.”

“Any charms Snoke could build would just give a general area, not my exact location, but you are correct.” He lowered his voice further, speaking directly in her ear. “And as you’re the only one I want to flirt with, this should be fast.”

Rey took in a breath before answering, keeping her hands loose on the reins as Falcon made his surefooted way forward. “Tell me what you envision.” She had given him a question he hadn’t quite expected, judging by his silence. “Tell me what this life is supposed to look like, with a price on our heads and expectations held over us like swords. Are we truly going to try and steal a throne?”

What had once seemed plausible now seemed impossible, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe because her focus had always been on finding Ben, and everything else had been secondary.

 _Check,_ she thought with little humor.

His answer was a quiet “Perhaps I want a cabin.”

“You might,” she agreed, curious at the odd note in his voice. “We could hide in your grandfather’s woods for the rest of our lives- and our children, and maybe even their children.”

Never able to leave, protected only by a ghost. A small spot of peace in a kingdom that suffered. 

Ben’s arms snugged a little tighter around her waist. “I want to _live._ ” His voice, still quiet, was also raw with desperation. “I’ve lost more than a decade to lies and magic, and I want- I _do_ want simple things, Rey. I want to reconnect with my parents. I want to make you smile and see you with flowers in your hair. I want to experience the seasons again. I want to sit by a fire in the evening without looking over my shoulder. Small things. Good things.” 

“But?” she prompted, hearing the unspoken qualifier. There was a newness to his words, as if they were a fresh wound that had been created in the hours she had spent dreaming. She didn’t need to see his face to know that his reserve was crumbling away second by second. 

Perhaps he would have been able to maintain the facade in someone else’s presence. Perhaps not.

“But I inherited my mother’s magic.” It sounded like a confession of a sort. “I didn’t feel it while asleep, but now that I’m awake I can’t escape it. I can feel the kingdom- the way it slowly rots away, under Snoke’s control- and it hurts, how much I want to fix it.” He took in an unsteady breath. “My people hated me, and wanted me dead, and I can’t escape their suffering. It’s an ache in my chest.”

Rey had hidden away her own fantasies of a quiet life, drawing them out almost shyly in safer moments. Wouldn’t it be lovely to live somewhere safe. Wouldn’t it be lovely to live near Han and Leia. Wouldn’t it be lovely to cradle a baby to her chest in a simple cabin, a mug of tea close at hand. 

Idle fantasies dissolved, leaving behind an ache of her own. A tear slipped down her cheek, and after a moment she placed a hand on his knee. “I’m scared, Ben,” she admitted, the words barely audible. “Of everything.”

“Me, too.” He was shivering, and she sensed the cause was not just the cold. “Only a fool wouldn’t be. But.”

The word hung in the air. “Yes?”

“But I would do it, for you.” He laid a hand over hers. “I would endure the ache, for you.”

And though she feared that would only lead him to resent her in the long run, there was no doubt in her mind of his sincerity in that one moment.

\- - -

They were both quiet as they rode on, stopping once to give Falcon a brief rest and eat a handful of dried fruit each. When they finally found a farm, Rey’s heart at first sank: though smoke curled from the chimney, the run-down state of the cabin and small stable was not encouraging. 

_There are no prosperous farmers here,_ she reminded herself. _Snoke made sure of that._

The door of the cabin opened, allowing a black dog to barrel outside with a barrage of savage barks. The man who followed eyed them warily, but greeted them politely enough. “Hello,” he said as his dog ran back in forth in front of them. 

His well-fed dog, Rey noted. His glossy-coated dog, which despite the ferocity of its bark looked increasingly friendly.

“We’re running low on supplies,” Rey replied, coming straight to the point. “Would you be interested in earning some coin?”

His gaze slipped over her shoulder to Ben, and what looked suspiciously like recognition briefly crossed his face. “I might be willing to come to a deal.” When he whistled the dog sprinted back to him with a look of canine adoration. “Come inside.”

Rey was beginning to feel that this entire encounter was a terrible idea, and for a brief moment Ben’s grip on her waist tightened- but then he dismounted without warning. “Mitaka,” he stated, causing Rey to suck in a startled breath. “The steward’s son.”

“You have a good memory, sire.” Mitaka scratched the dog behind its ears, considering Ben thoughtfully. “For a dead man, you look very well.”

“I have my lady to thank for that.” There was a note in Ben’s voice that told her that he, too, was uncertain where this conversation would go. “I was not aware that you lived here, and we may have followers- we’ll leave, if you prefer.”

The corners of Mitaka’s mouth quirked upward. “And miss my chance to commit treason? I think not. We’ll be quick about it.”

He was true to his word. In less than fifteen minutes Rey was tucking away grain, dried peas, and a parcel of smoked meat, as well as some withered carrots and onions. Despite the run-down exterior of the buildings, their interiors were well-maintained and cunningly built: before their eyes he had moved seemingly fixed boards from the floor of the cabin, revealing his hidden store of food. He had done the same in the barn, pulling grain from a small, concealed nook. 

“You’ll hardly run off and tell the local lord, will you?” he had said as he handed over the bag of grain. “I think my secrets are safe with you.”

And at every moment the dog had trotted along at its master’s heels, tongue lolling from its mouth. 

“Your mother sent us away,” Mitaka was telling Ben as she closed the saddlebags. “My father didn’t want to leave-”

He paused, and when she looked up there was grief on his face. “But she was kind,” he finally said. “She was always very good at being kind when giving a command.”

“She was. Is,” Ben agreed, a new cloak around his shoulders and his hands full of fabric. Mitaka’s father- now passed- had been a taller and broader man than his son, it seemed.

The use of the present tense visibly drew Mitaka’s attention, but he merely said, “Please give her my thanks, when you see her next.” 

“I will.” Ben slid Rey a glance, and then added, “She lives in a settlement within Anakin’s woods.”

There was a flicker of interest on Mitaka’s face, joined by a greater measure of fear. “A safe place,” he commented, tone cautious.

Rey stepped up beside Ben, wondering if the magic he admitted to gave him a sense of the man- but then, she had certainly formed a good impression of him herself in a very short span of time. “They would be happy to welcome you,” she said, suppressing a grin when the dog suddenly shoved its head under her hand for petting. “And your friend.”

Mitaka looked not to the buildings, nor to the snow-covered fields, but only to his dog. His face was thin under his neat beard, the skin under his eyes dark. His frame was lean enough to make Rey wonder if he ate a little less to ensure that his animals could eat a little more. “Maybe in the spring,” he said finally. “After the snow has melted.” He met Rey’s gaze with a slight nod, and then Ben’s. “Safe travels,” he told them quietly. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”

“One person doesn’t want you dead, at the very least,” Rey said as they rode away, and Ben laughed a little. 

“One.”

“One is a start.”

There was a beat of silence. “True,” he agreed, sending a shiver through her when his breath warmed the small bit of skin exposed by her scarf. “I hope he does join us, one day, and that we haven’t brought trouble to his door.”

“I know.” All alone, with only an overly friendly dog for company. She crossed her fingers, sending upward her strongest wish that the soldiers would pass right by his small homestead, or at the very least be open to bribes. “Ben?”

“Hmm?”

“If you have to chose between running for safety and saving me-”

“Don’t,” he said flatly, snapping the word out. “I won’t leave you. That isn’t negotiable.”

She liked hearing those words too much, but still argued, “Your father sent me away.”

“Because he loves you.” He was stubbornness incarnate at her back. “Chewie, too. They wanted you to find me, but more than that they wanted you to live. I won’t go on without you, and in that one respect you can’t sway me, Rey.”

As she blinked back tears, he added, “Besides, Snoke will want me alive. His hunters wouldn’t dare try to make a killing blow if I’m with you.”

“I don’t understand why he wanted you alive in the first place.” The words came out with more of a bite than she had intended. “Unless he wanted you as a trophy.”

Ben didn’t seem to mind her seeming irritation. “I’ve been thinking on that, and I have a theory- though you may be right about wanting a trophy to gloat over.” 

There was less snow on the ground in this area, and Falcon was making good time and giving every impression of being energetic and eager to move. Rey stayed silent as she waited for Ben to continue, and after a moment he did, in a soft voice that wouldn’t carry.

“The magic at the border protects Snoke as much as it did my mother and grandmother. Without it, one of our allies would have sent help in the early days- and in the years since, one of our more grasping neighbors would have tried to annex some of our land.” He paused as if considering his words. “But we don’t know much about how that magic works. It was created in desperation, in a handful of seconds, and Anakin died in the process. The method, his intentions- we’ll never know those things. The magic might last forever, or it might last for as long as his descendants live.”

She managed a look back at him, a little startled by his words. “He kept you to fuel the border magic? A living battery?”

It was clear that he didn’t know what a battery was, but he didn’t ask. “The curse he put on me wouldn’t have prevented my eventual death, but it would have bought him enough time. He was already older than my father is now when he took the throne- twenty, thirty years would have been more than enough.” 

Her twisted position was awkward, but she continued to hold his earnest gaze. “Which is why you think the soldiers will take you alive.”

“This time he’ll keep me close.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless smile. “The last thing I want is to endure an enchanted sleep, chained in a coffin under his bed. I’ll fall on a sword before I allow that.”

“Please don’t,” she said without even thinking, and when his smile warmed she mumbled, “We don’t even have a sword,” and looked forward again. 

“That is our sole problem, I agree.” 

“Hush.”

\- - -

Their peace lasted only a few more hours, faint, triumphant laughter from the hill at their rear their only warning. Casting a glance back, Rey saw five men on horseback, one pointing directly at them.

“We can’t outrun them,” she said as Ben cursed under his breath, her heart-rate increasing. Falcon was still in good spirits, but he was no longer fresh. “Ben, if you run for the trees ahead-”

“ _No._ ” He almost snarled the word. “Keep going.”

There would be no bloodthirsty spirit to save them in the middle of this open expanse. Ben might have been able to make it to the trees on foot if Rey stayed behind to waylay their pursuers, but-

 _Hidden,_ she thought desperately, watching as the soldiers’ surefooted horses came toward them at speed. _Someway, somehow._

Heat bloomed in her belly, spreading through her limbs before she could even gasp. “Rey?” Ben asked quizzically, voice tense. “What-”

An angry shout went up from behind them, and instinctively Rey nudged Falcon with her knees toward the left, zagging away from their path. 

“Where did they go?” one of the soldiers bit out, his voice traveling over the field. “No one said they were fucking magicians.”

“We’re not leaving a path in the snow,” Ben whispered. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

The heat buzzed lightly in her fingertips and toes, prickling her skin. It was less painful than the breaking of the curse, but still uncomfortable. Grimly Rey held on to the feeling, barely registering the moment when Ben carefully took the reins from her hands. 

A breath in ( _not here, not here_ ), a breath out ( _invisible, soundless_ ). Falcon’s tack jangled unbearably loud as they moved further away, but when she dared a glance toward the soldiers they didn’t seem to notice. They were arguing ferociously at the spot where Falcon’s hoof-prints ended, nearly at each others’ throats.

_Safe. Hidden. Me and mine, veiled from the world._

The buzz along her nerves began to feel like the stinging of bees, but she gritted her teeth, shutting her eyes against the pain.

 _Hidden. Hidden. Hidden._ She fell into the sensation, the taste of blood filling her mouth when she accidentally bit the inside of her cheek. _Safe._

And then a distraction: “Rey. _Rey._ ” 

She opened her eyes, blinking against unexpected night. A headache pulsed in her temples.

“You can let the magic go, sweetheart,” he said, voice odd with something she couldn’t read. “We’re far enough away, now.”

With a shuddering gasp she loosened her hold on the intangible threads of her makeshift spell, allowing herself to rest against his chest. Why was it night? It had been day only moments before. “Ben.”

“What a good job you’ve done,” he praised with what sounded like a sigh of relief, one arm wrapped securely around her waist. The reins were still in his other hand. “You saved us both.”

“It hurts,” she admitted, her throat and mouth dry. _Dark. It shouldn’t be dark._

“My uncle told me once that the pain lessens with practice.” His words, though comforting, were edged with concern. “Rest. I’ll find a safe place to stop.”

“They’ll find us,” she protested, muddled, and he was silent for a moment.

“No,” he said finally, and she realized the unexpected note in his voice was awe. “You held that spell for hours.”

Hours. She looked up at the stars above them, trying to process the notion. Hours.

“I tried to pull you out of it earlier,” he continued, “but you refused to wake. It terrified me.”

Rey closed her eyes, yawning. “Sorry.”

“I kept thinking, ‘Rey should have told me her secret method’.”

“No.”

“Stubborn,” he said softly, like it was an endearment. “Sleep, love. I have you.”

Hours. She turned that knowledge over in her mind drowsily, the remnants of the stinging sensation fading from her fingertips. Hours. 

_Worth it, then,_ was all she thought before sliding into sleep in truth.


	14. meeting

Rey would later have vague memories of being pulled from Falcon’s back and bundled snugly into the blankets, boots and all, but when she finally did wake in the gray pre-dawn she at first wasn’t entirely sure where she was or what had happened. What she did know was what she could see: Ben stomping out the last embers of a dead fire, and what looked like a large bread-roll resting on the blanket right next to her cheek. 

“What’s this?” she asked sleepily, picking it up for a sniff. Cold, but still soft.

“Sausage roll. Mitaka made them.” He began resaddling Falcon. “Do you have a headache?”

“Not anymore.” She took a bite, and was so delighted by the taste of almost fresh bread that it took willpower not to immediately stuff the rest in her mouth. It wasn’t until the second bite that she realized what, exactly, was wrong with this particular picture. “You haven’t slept,” she said accusingly mid-chew. “You need to sleep.”

“You bought us time, but not enough for that.” He glanced up at the sky, still buckling one strap. “The moment your spell ended their charms would have started to work again. I only stopped long enough for Falcon to get a little rest.”

Rey scrambled out of the blankets, half-eaten roll in one hand. “I could do it again.”

“No.”

“I’m rested, Ben,” she protested before shoving the last bite in her mouth and grabbing the blankets.

“No.” He said the word firmly, as if he were imparting a royal command, his entire manner setting her on edge. Scowling, she snapped the blankets flat while hastily chewing her food, and began to roll them into a compact bundle. 

“I,” she said heatedly as soon as she had swallowed, “will cast any spell I fucking please, Your Highness, up to and including keeping a bunch of soldiers off our backs.”

He didn’t turn to face her, but his body did tense as he tightened the girth strap on the saddle. “And I,” he snapped back in a low, brutally measured tone, “will not watch you burn yourself out with magic you can’t control. I do not find the idea of replicating my grandparents’ romance _pleasing._ ”

She hesitated briefly, unable to deny that he might have a point. “Perhaps I want to haunt a forest,” she mumbled, more for the sake of making a retort than anything else. 

“Then when you’re eighty and frail, you can find your own patch of woods and unleash your magic there. Replace the winter snow with an ocean of bluebells, turn the birds to phoenixes, whatever ridiculous thing you desire.” He _sounded_ angry, but when he turned to face her his expression was closer to a panicked plea. “But I will _not_ cradle your dead body in my arms for the sake of a don’t-look-here spell, Rey. I refuse.”

Rey considered him for a long moment, hands still on the bedroll. “We’d better move on, then,” she said finally, watching as some of the panic left his eyes. “Are you going to make a habit of coming to appalling conclusions whenever I’m not awake to distract you?”

He smiled reluctantly, the gesture a weak one. “After so long, obsessive thinking is already a habit.”

“Right.” She offered him the bedroll, standing back as he attached it to the saddle. “Perhaps you could take a little nap, while we ride,” she mused. _Perhaps I should wear you out before bed for the foreseeable future,_ a less-controlled part of her brain opined. “Though we might have to tie you to the saddle. I don’t want you pulling me off Falcon’s back.”

“We’ll save that for a last resort.” Ben was beginning to look more relaxed, if weary. “We should be able to make the forest by nightfall. You can take the first shift.”

Before she could reply, he bent and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “What you did was astounding,” he whispered hurriedly, cupping her cheek in one large hand. “But if you could maybe- possibly- be astounding in a way that _doesn’t_ scare five years off my lifespan, I would appreciate it.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” she replied in a similar whisper, resisting the urge to lean into his hand. 

“Thank you.” He continued to hold her gaze, eyes soft and searching. “Sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome.” Reluctantly, she took a step back. “We should go.”

When he settled behind her in the saddle, with what felt like every inch of his broad chest pressed to her back and his thighs snugged up against hers, she ducked her head with an unbidden smile. She liked the physical contact a little too much. And she wondered, despite her better judgment, what she might feel if they were riding along in the summer and wearing lighter-weight clothing. Years of skulking around Plutt’s domain- around his men, who had considered flashing Rey their genitals either a good joke or an enticement- had given her a good idea of what might be beneath his wool and leather. For the first time, she was actually curious. 

“Ben?”

His name slipped out before she could even really consider it. He offered a quiet, questioning “Hmm?” in return, and her throat clutched, tongue frozen. 

“What is it?” A murmur, and a gentle one. 

She couldn’t voice the sudden flow of questions. They had nothing to do with his physique; they were the tangential _will you be kind, will you pin me down, will you make me cry like Nora cried her first time._ The words wouldn’t come.

“Rey?” One of his hands curved over her stomach, barely felt through the bulk of her clothing. “Sweetheart?”

“Nothing.” Rey swallowed, mouth painfully dry. “Nothing at all.”

\- - -

As the day wore on Ben’s embrace softened, arms loose around her waist as his head came to rest on her shoulder. 

“Stay awake,” she said firmly, not minding the way he leaned into her back but genuinely worried that he might slide sideways into the snow. “Talk to me, Ben.”

“I like how prickly you are,” he mumbled. “Makes me want to cuddle you.”

“If I’m prickly, it’s for good reason.”

“I wish I could meet the men who made you so wary.” Sleepy as he was, steel lay beneath the words. “They would not enjoy the encounter.”

It struck Rey that her immediate dislike of his comment had far, far less to do with the idea of Ben injuring people for her sake, and almost everything to do with the thought of guns drawn on him. His weapons and magic wouldn’t be able to stop a barrage of bullets. 

“What would you have done, if you weren’t here?”

_Died,_ Rey nearly responded with grim certainty. “I probably would have stolen a few wallets until I had enough money to leave town.” 

“And then?”

“And then I would have been homeless- again- but out from under Plutt’s thumb.” 

He was quiet for a long moment, long enough that she began to wonder if he had fallen asleep. “You’ll always have a home with me,” he said when she was on the verge of saying his name. “Even if you decide you don’t want me at all.”

“Your mother said much the same.”

“Good.” His embrace tightened slightly. “You should have choices. You should always have choices.”

He sounded sincere, if a little sad, and- truthfully- the idea of living separately from Ben inspired a similar sadness in her. “But you want me to choose you,” Rey prompted, at least in part to keep him talking and awake.

“Of course I do,” he replied with a quiet laugh. “I’m hardly a saint, sweetheart. I want to share a bed with you, start a family with you. I want the satisfaction of seeing you cared for and happy and knowing that I’m at least in part responsible.”

Rey opened her mouth to respond, closed it, and then tried again. “And what if I’m not… pleasing… in bed?” Prickly and wary as she was. Frigid, as Plutt’s men had spat when she’d refused their advances. 

“I’m not worried about being pleased,” Ben said, voice heavy with wry, seemingly self-deprecating amusement. “I am worried about pleasing. I have no experience in this arena, you know. The books I found hidden in the palace library were illuminating, but hardly the same as first-hand experience- and given that I lived first under my mother’s all-too-knowing eyes, and then my uncle’s disapproving ones, there was never time for more experimentation than a few kisses.”

In all her worry over sex Rey hadn’t even considered the idea that Ben might be as virginal as her, and a part of her regretted that they weren’t having this conversation face to face. 

Just a small part. The way he looked at her was still new and a little overwhelming. “Seriously?”

“Before the tide turned against my family, there were members of the court who would have been thrilled if I had compromised their daughters and been forced to offer marriage. I had no desire to be trapped in such a way, and I knew that I might have to marry to secure an alliance.” He seemed to shrug. “As for finding partners elsewhere, I had no intention of forcing my attentions on anyone who might feel forced to reciprocate because of their station.” 

“So there aren’t any dark-haired children running around the kingdom who bear a startling resemblance to you?” It was a blunt question, and a rude one, but she needed to ask it. Not because she would think less of him for having sired a child with a willing woman, but just _to know._

“No.” There was no affront in his tone. “Perhaps someday.”

Strangely, the knowledge that if she went to bed with him they would both be fumbling through the act was a relief. “So… so you have no expectations.”

_In bed_ went unspoken, and even weary he didn’t miss what went unsaid. “Only self-imposed. I would be satisfied with seeing you smile after everything was done.” He yawned. “Preferably a cat-in-the-cream smile, the sheets barely covering your breasts.”

Her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “Ben.”

“Then I’ll hold you while we both fall asleep. Surely those books taught me something of use.”

Rey couldn’t help but imagine Ben kneeling between her spread thighs, an expression of concentration on his face as he put into practice whatever his teenage studies had uncovered. Watching him might be worth the entire endeavor, no matter the discomfort and her nerves. 

Still. “I’ll never bring you an alliance,” she said quietly, returning to his earlier words. “I would bring only magic that frightens me and the ability to pick both locks and pockets.”

She could keep a cabin in order, thanks to Leia’s lessons, but not run a household. She couldn’t plan extensive menus, or pair wines, or talk cunningly pretty circles around a diplomat. If they did manage the impossible no amount of silk dresses or delicate crowns would disguise the fact that she was _other._

He didn’t straighten, but he did seem to waken somewhat. “One day,” he murmured in her ear, utter certainty in his voice, “I will see you stand with your head held high, proud and sure in the knowledge that you are worth more than any alliance or any amount of gold. When that day comes, I hope you will allow me to offer some gesture of fealty.”

Rey dropped her gaze to Falcon’s mane, unsure why this, of all things, struck her so hard as to leave a crack in her defenses. “I think fealty is generally given to royalty, and not the other way around.”

“Sweetheart.” His chapped lips brushed over her earlobe in what might have been a kiss, or might have been an accident. “I’m royal only by virtue of birth. You’re so much more extraordinary than an act of happenstance.” 

The tears that dripped down her face were hot, compared to the icy air, and at her first shuddering breath he tightened his grasp, making a soothing sound she barely heard. She didn’t say anything, and neither did he- instead they rode on, Rey digging the handkerchief still streaked with dust and cobwebs from her pocket to blow her nose. 

\- - -

She didn’t want to see the soldiers. She didn’t want to see anyone. 

When she got her wish, Rey couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding settle heavily in her chest. It was odd that the soldiers had never caught up with them- odd, and disturbing.

_Maybe the spell lingered after I let it go._

Maybe, and maybe she would also find a banquet table laden with food over the next hill. When she shook her head slightly in uneasy disgust, Ben rested his chin on her shoulder and spoke. “Unsettled?”

“They should have found us by now.”

“I know.” 

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I know. But we’re almost there, and they won’t follow us inside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Once,” he said slowly, as if recalling nearly forgotten lessons, “there was a group of bandits who terrorized this area of the kingdom. They had at least one magician who covered their tracks, and for over a year they ransacked villages as they pleased. One day they torched a minor lord’s holding, kidnapping several young women, and for whatever reason escaped into the forest.”

“They never came out, did they?” Rey asked, voice subdued.

“The women did. They were shaken and bruised, but otherwise uninjured, and said that the ghost had set them free.” Ben paused, then said in a lighter tone, “So we’ll probably be fine.”

And she clung to that small hope right until the moment the edge of the woods came into sight, and with it, the five soldiers waiting just outside the boundary. 

There wasn’t much time to react. The flow of the land had obscured their presence until too late, leaving only a mere fifteen or so feet between the two parties. _How,_ Rey wanted to ask, but how was a non-issue. All that mattered was reaching the woods. 

All that mattered was _Ben_ reaching the woods. 

The soldiers spread out into a loose semi-circle, all on foot with weapons unsheathed. Four carried swords, one a bow with an arrow already nocked. “Kill the witch,” came the growled order, and the soldier holding the bow drew back the arrow, late afternoon light glinting off the wickedly sharp tip. It would bury itself right into her chest, Rey knew, and possibly impale itself in Ben as well, and as the archer let the arrow fly she threw her weight sideways, dragging them both off the horse into a snow drift.

The impact was jarring but could have been worse. Rey had experienced worse the summer she had toppled from a structurally unsound balcony, her fall broken by mercilessly scratchy bushes. As Falcon bolted Rey scrambled to her feet, unsheathing the dagger. Her gaze swung wildly from man to man, more worried for the moment, at least, about the archer nocking another arrow- until Falcon turned sharply and came to a stop behind the same soldier, rearing up and lashing out with his front hooves. 

Falcon was a large horse. A heavy one. And, as it turned out, exceptionally well-trained and as protective as a guard dog. His job done, he cantered into the forest away from the sword being swung at his back legs. 

The remaining soldiers adjusted their positions quickly. One, whose weapons and clothing marked him out as the leader of the band, scrutinized Rey disdainfully. “Just a slip of a girl,” he said in sneering tones. “What do you expect to accomplish with that little knife?”

Ben stepped up beside her. “She’s going to walk into the woods,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Your fight is with me, not her.”

“We don’t allow witches to thrive in this kingdom.” A smirk settled on the man’s face. Red hair peeked from beneath his helm. “I hope you got some relief from her while you had the chance. We would bring her along with us,” he drawled, implication clear, “but she’s proven herself more of a burden than is useful.”

Rey’s gaze drifted to the soldier closest, to his mail and barehanded grip on his sword. Her body knew every way a dagger could be wielded against a swordman, but they were outnumbered. A little bit of magic, she decided, was warranted, and silently apologized to Ben.

Not fire, but heat. The barehanded soldier cast a puzzled glance toward his hand as the hilt warmed past what body heat could impart, and then yelped with pain when every piece of metal on his person blazed fire-hot. The warped sword fell with a sizzle to the snow, forgotten as the man shrieked and pulled frantically at his helm and mail. 

Releasing the spell with a speed that left Rey light-headed, she reached out to grab Ben only to find his arm around her waist, hauling her into the air as he charged toward the broken line of defense. Falcon met them inside the woods, whickering with what almost sounded like concern when Ben placed her on her feet.

“One of these days,” Rey said with a wheeze, skin uncomfortably hot, “I will actually get to use this dagger against someone other than your uncle.”

“Get them!” the leader was screaming on the other side of the boundary, seeming to care little that one of his men was terribly burned. He shoved another soldier into the trees. “Grab him; he’s _right there._ ”

Before the chosen soldier could move forward or attempt retreat, a crack echoed around them, catching all of their attention.

A branch- heavy, and perfectly healthy- plummeted from high above, striking the man on the head and sending him crumpling to the earth.

The remaining soldiers paled, and even the burned man’s sounds of pain quieted for a long moment. His uninjured compatriot took a prudent step away from the leader, out of reach in case the red-haired man decided to shove him inside.

Carefully, Ben took hold of her elbow. “Mount,” he whispered in her ear, guiding her to Falcon’s side without taking his eyes of the men. She did so, almost holding her breath until he settled in the saddle behind her. 

The leader took a step forward, rage replacing fear- and then he stopped, looking somewhere behind and to the right of them. 

He retreated several steps, wrenching his gaze away from what Rey saw to be empty woods when she dared a glance. “May you rot,” he told them, voice filled with helpless fury. He spat in the snow. “I’ll have your heads eventually.”

He stalked toward their waiting horses without looking once to his two living soldiers, only to stop in his tracks when Ben raised his voice. 

“Hux.”

Slowly the man turned, somehow even more furious than he had been seconds before. 

“I remember your father.” Ben curved a hand around Rey’s hip on the side hidden from their foes, and when she flicked a glance downward she saw that his fingers were trembling slightly. “If he were alive, he would be just as disappointed in your failure as your master soon will be.”

“Don’t antagonize him,” Rey muttered under her breath. 

Hux’s free hand clenched into a fist. “Enjoy what little time you have left, Solo,” he gritted out, and then turned and marched determinedly to his horse. 

Before Ben could say anything more Rey signaled for Falcon to move, watching over her shoulder until all she could see were trees and snow and empty air. “Was that necessary?” she asked once she was sure that they weren’t being followed. 

“I’ve always hated him.”

“But was it necessary?”

“Was using dangerous fire magic necessary? You feel like a fever patient.”

She shrugged as casually as she could manage. “It got us into the forest.”

“I’m not arguing with the result.” Ben sighed, resting his head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, the fatigue returning to his voice. “You’re right, Rey.”

Rey flexed her fingers, which still tingled slightly. “I’m sorry, too,” she admitted. “My control… could use some work.”

He buried his face in her scarf, his embrace tender if tired. “Try not to set yourself on fire.”

She laughed a little, belated fear flickering in her mind. “I’ll try.” Switching the reins to one hand, she tangled her fingers with his, the feel comforting even if they both wore gloves. “I’ll try very hard, Ben.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” A relieved sigh. “Thank you.”


	15. snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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The woods watched. It was a simple fact, and as Ben slept, his head on her lap, Rey watched the woods in return. 

_He’s your grandson,_ she almost said. _We just want to go home._

Instead she sat in silence, a small fire warming her feet as Ben dreamed away. Whatever watched in the woods watched, and when she woke Ben to take her own turn she curled up next to him, hand almost touching his thigh.

\- - -

“It’s going to snow.”

Rey looked up at the leaden-gray sky peeking through the trees, unsure why Ben’s tone had suddenly turned grave. “So?”

“Hard.” 

They had experienced a few steady snowfalls, but nothing that would inconvenience them. “How can you tell?” she asked, genuinely curious. 

“The sky, the smell and feel of the air.” He gestured around them. “The silence.”

“Honestly, I thought that was the ghost’s fault.”

He chuckled, sounding almost distracted. “Perhaps in part, but the coming storm certainly isn’t helping. We need to find a shelter, and soon.”

Easier said than done, she thought. Easier said than done, except a half hour later they rode into an abandoned and crumbling village, the coincidence too striking to ignore.

“Too easy,” she murmured, immediately spotting what looked to be a building in decent condition. “Ben…”

“If it’s a gift, I wouldn’t want to offend by riding past,” he explained softly. “And given what happened when the soldiers tried to follow us into the woods, it might very well be a gift.”

Falcon continued happily on toward the cabin, acting as if it were his home stable and filled to the brim with sweet grain. Rey placed a hand on Ben’s forearm, drawing comfort from his presence. “It’s hard to trust such… such a mystery.”

“I know.” 

As they drew closer, Rey spotted the small stable just steps away from the home; spotted the sound chimney and straight door and shutters. “Is your grandfather trying to trap us in a love-nest?” she asked, attempting a feeble joke. “You might have already guessed, but I haven’t had an actual bath since Ahch-To.”

“It’s been a little longer for me,” he replied in an utterly deadpan tone, and swung down from the saddle when they were before the door. “And if he were trying such a thing, we would open the door to a soft bed, a blazing fire, a hip tub filled with hot water-”

“And a feast,” she interrupted as she joined him on the ground, amused despite herself.

“-and the finest vintage of wine.” Ben looked around, a hint of uncertainty in his expression. “I wonder where these people went.”

There was no obvious evidence of fire or man-made destruction; instead the village seemed simply to be returning to the embrace of the forest. “Your father said something about raiders,” she said slowly, “though this isn’t your grandfather’s birthplace, at least- I think that’s in the west.”

“It is.” He slid an arm around her waist, the gesture an unthinking and natural one as he eyed the door. “Shall we see our accommodations, then?”

As the door swung open she instinctively tensed in anticipation of meeting a predator, but to her relief there was nothing but dust, some clutter in the corner, and a wooden table. “No four-footed tenants to evict,” Ben said as he walked over to the hearth, feet stirring the dust. “And I think-”

He knelt, peering up the chimney. “-I think this is clear and safe to use.”

“So we’ll need wood,” she said briskly. “And we’ll need to check the stable and hope Falcon won’t be boarding with us.”

“I’ll do that, you gather wood.” He made his way back across the room, stopping beside her. “We won’t have to sleep in shifts,” he noted, eyes searching hers. “Unless you want to.”

A question in the guise of a statement, and one she wasn’t sure how to answer. There was only the one bedroll, after all, which meant either sharing or curling up on the bare wooden floor. Rey licked dry, chapped lips. “Wood.”

Ben’s mouth quirked into a barely visible smile. “It’s nice, seeing you face to face.” His gloved thumb smoothed over her cheekbone, the worn leather soft. “I got used to it, during our meetings before you woke me up.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know.” 

Rey tilted her head slightly to the side, a little dizzy when he looked at her like _that_ \- when he looked at her at all, really. “What would you have done, if I hadn’t used magic to get us into the forest?”

He blinked, though he didn’t look as surprised by the question than she had expected. “Chewie taught me hand-to-hand.”

“Against swords?”

“Against wooden swords.” He wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger, his expression both stubborn and soft all at once. “I earned my share of bruises.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She took a step back, the strand of hair falling in a loose corkscrew against her cheek. “I would have bitten them.”

He broke into a full-fledged grin. “I almost wish you had.”

She sensed that his smiles had been few and far between, at least since Snoke’s poison had first begun to spread, and was tempted to kiss him a second time on the strength of that alone- though she wasn’t sure if the first time actually counted. Kisses only counted when both parties were conscious and consenting, Rey was fairly sure. “I probably would have caught a disease,” she said instead, trying to keep her tone cool and not quite managing it. “It’s going to snow, Ben- you said so yourself.”

“So I did.” His smile dimmed. “Be careful. I don’t think anything will happen, but don’t wander too far.”

“I won’t.” Rey glanced toward the pile of rubbish in one corner, and spotting a bucket scurried toward it to inspect for cracks. It was dusty but seemed sound, and as far as she could tell had never held anything foul. “Maybe the well is still good.” With ready water she could start a pot of soup using Mitaka’s salted meat and withered vegetables. She could even steal a moment to scrub her face, for as much good as that would do. 

It was funny, in a way- Rey had spent most of her life without regular bathing. Access to a safe shower had been an irregular occurrence, and on any given day she would have taken being dirty over being nude in a bathroom with a shoddy lock. It wasn’t until living with Leia- Leia, who appreciated cleanliness and lived in a village with a dedicated bathhouse- that Rey had developed an appreciation for baths. And here she was, shy over her unbathed state in a way she never had been before. 

It was a mess, as far as Rey was concerned. “Wood,” she said for a second time, and darted out the door with her prize. 

\- - -

There was a well, and though the wooden cover was beginning to rot the water itself was sweet. Rey rinsed off her handkerchief before rubbing it over her face, honestly unsure if she were making things better or worse. After slipping the wet cloth under her tunic to scrub at her armpits- useless, and unpleasant in the cold- and using the tooth powder Leia had given her, she carried fresh water inside, setting it beside the heap of kindling she had gathered from under the nearby trees. She had also found a store of dried wood tucked in a wood-box to the rear of the cabin, and hoped that whoever had split the firewood had moved on of their own accord. They would eat, at least, and sleep warm, and- judging by the glimpse she had gotten of Ben when passing by the small stable- would be doing so without an equine chaperon. 

He joined her when the soup was just beginning to simmer, after Rey had managed to sweep out the worst of the dust with the patchy broom she had found in the pile of refuse. A few spiders had scurried away from the path of the worn bristles, but overall the home was as empty and safe as an abandoned building could be. 

Ben removed his cloak with a relieved sigh, the dusting of snow on his hair and clothing already beginning to melt. “Falcon seemed pleased with his accommodations. I think we finished just in time; the storm is beginning to pick up.”

And with it, the wind. Rey gave the soup a stir. “It feels odd to not be on the move, looking over our shoulders.”

“Those days will probably come again,” he replied quietly, settling on the floor near her. A glance at his face told her that he, too, had taken a moment to wash. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about the facial hair he was sporting, and found herself wondering if he would shave regularly once their journey had ended. 

He caught her considering look, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Still getting used to my face, sweetheart?”

With a blush she turned back to their dinner. “Tell me about Hux.”

Ben’s expression turned stony, but he complied nonetheless. “His father was a high-ranking knight. No one is quite sure who his mother was; the pair was always close-lipped about it.” Ben paused, then said grimly, “It was whispered that Brendol Hux forced himself on one of the kitchen maids at his estate, but my parents were never able to find proof.”

“They would have punished him?”

“For rape, yes. My grandmother strengthened those laws, and my parents upheld them.” He flexed his fingers, looking down at his hands. “Brendol brought his son to court when he was eight or nine, and Armitage joined the squires in their lessons. He was always… he never quite fit in. Not because he was born out of wedlock; only the most snobbish of the courtiers cared about that. He just seemed to have been born with a sneer on his face and a willingness to exploit anyone weaker than him.” Ben laughed slightly, humorlessly. “I’ve never seen him happier than when people began to turn against me. He smiled more in those months than in all the years previous.”

Rey muttered “What a prick,” and was rewarded by his bare hand curving over her knee. “He probably thrived in Snoke’s court.”

“I have no doubt.” His thumb rubbed small circles against her worn leathers, a faint, constant pressure that drew her gaze. “I should count myself lucky that Snoke didn’t appoint him as head of my guard- I probably would have woken up short a few fingers and toes and with many more scars.”

“They must have known you were up there,” she murmured, watching the circular movement. “The door was unlocked… but no one had checked in on you in a long time.”

“He might have bound them with some kind of geas to keep curiosity to a minimum.” His thumb paused briefly, his voice dropping low and dark. “They likely would have been in to gloat in the early days. Perhaps the thrill turned to boredom.”

She glanced up at his face, finding his jaw set and his gaze distant. “Are you very angry, Ben?”

He released a shuddering breath, surfacing from whatever memory had held him captive. “Sometimes.” His tone was more bleak than dark, on that word. “Sometimes I’m angry at everyone, my parents included.” Ben looked emotionally bruised when he finally met her eyes, but he did so unflinchingly. “I was scared when they sent me away, but I hoped that they would somehow fix the problem and call me back within a few months. They never did.” He removed his hand from her knee. “And even though I understood why, I still grew bitter. She- Phasma- was right, at least partially- the curse had a lot of despair and anger inside of me to work with. I can vaguely remember, in the early days of sleep- maybe even years; time was odd- throwing myself at the magical bonds in a state of absolute rage. For a long time I wasn’t just angry, I _hated._ ”

He seemed to briefly mull over the word. “Eventually I no longer had the energy, and everything went dark. Nothing penetrated that darkness until you arrived.”

They had both been caged, Ben by magic and Rey by circumstance, and those cages had been as lonely and barren as the wind-swept wastes outside of Jakku. As he held her gaze, his raw emotions clear, realization crystallized in her mind in the form of three words: _I love you._

A wondering, bittersweet giddiness swept through her, and she resisted the urge to press her hand over her heart in some futile bid to contain the feeling. _Perhaps too much._

“I-”

Rey stopped, habit almost silencing her, but forged ahead despite years of ingrained caution. “I thought my parents would come back, too.” It was one thing to speak, but another to see his expression while she did so. She turned away to stir the soup as word after word tumbled out. “Not that they had a good reason for selling me. And I’m not trying to lessen your pain by comparison.”

“I know.” He spoke gently, and while he didn’t touch her again she saw, from the corner of her eye, his hand coming to rest on the floor between them.

“And it’s just… funny… that I keep falling back on my mother’s lessons here, when they did me no good before.” She continued to stir slowly, watching as the bits of vegetables and cured meat swirled in the wake of her spoon. “Her stories, really. She was always trying to distract me while my father drank or made his deals, and she told me of forest spirits and kings and queens and sleeping princesses-”

“No princes?” Ben asked with quiet amusement. 

“Not in her stories, but the solution ended up being the same.” Rey briefly bit her lower lip, hard. “And I… I kind of hate it, at times,” she admitted in a whisper. “Knowing that the woman who abandoned me also taught me one of the most important things I know.”

A kiss to wake a sleeping prince. A small thing- an absurd thing- and yet her mother had carelessly imparted that unexpected wisdom and the end result sat beside her. Carefully she balanced the wooden spoon on the rim of the pot. “Ben?”

“Rey?”

“I kissed you.”

When he didn’t reply she continued, eyes cast downward. “That’s what all my mother’s stories said to do. A kiss to break a curse. I didn’t know what else to do.”

After a painfully long moment of silence he moved closer, his arm curved around her back. “Did you think I would be mad, sweetheart?” he asked softly, lips brushing against her temple. 

“More expecting the same before I was willing to give it.” Because that fear had been pounded into her for as long as she could remember, because for far too long that had been a very real threat. “And that was unfair, thinking you would take advantage. Really, I took advantage by kissing you without permission.”

“Rey, you could have lopped off one of my fingers and I would have considered it a small sacrifice, if it had woken me up. My only regret is that I have no memory of it.”

There was no expectation in his voice, no veiled command- it was just a fact, and one said a little wistfully. “It wasn’t a very good one,” she murmured. “Just a peck. And I was nearly snagged by the curse the moment our lips touched, so it was hardly romantic.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, his breath warm against her skin. She caught the scent of mint and realized that at some point he, too, had cleaned his teeth, though whether it had been from hope or courtesy or simply relief that they could spare time for such niceties she wasn’t sure. “I’m surprised Snoke even built in such a failsafe. We don’t have any stories like that- though we might now.”

“I would prefer if no one spread this particular story, Ben.”

“Very well.”

He seemed content, at that moment, to stay as they were: cuddled up in front of the hearth, with him pressing the occasional kiss against her forehead and hair. 

_I love you._ She examined the words carefully, finding in them truth and a kind of terrifying excitement. Saying them aloud would be something she could never walk back, and that knowledge stopped her tongue. 

Instead, she pulled back a little and tilted her face up, meeting his eyes. “Ben?”

“Rey.” 

No one had ever said her name like that before, as if she represented everything it was possible to want in a person. “May I kiss you?”

His mouth curled into a slow, hopeful smile. “I wish you would.”

Rey cupped his cheek with one hand that shook, just a little, his stubble prickling the skin of her palm. Despite his obvious anticipation, he made no move as she guided him closer, made no move when her mouth lingered a hairsbreadth from his. Then she closed the gap, and for a moment the kiss was very like the one she had given him in the tower: gentle pressure, a kiss more in name than in deed. 

She minutely shifted angles, easing into the kiss further. Ben made a quiet, happy sound in the back of his throat that made her tremble, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, and when his tongue nudged questioningly at the seam of her lips she allowed him in.

_Ben._ Rey was no expert on kisses but she knew she liked this one, and understood on an instant, molecular level how easy it would be to grow addicted to the feel of his mouth and the way his tongue caressed hers. _I would walk across a desert if he were on the other side,_ she realized dazedly as Ben pulled her onto his lap, her limbs loose and body eager to be closer. _I’ve already ridden across a tundra._

Rey wasn’t entirely sure who broke the kiss, whether it had been him or her or both of them in concert, but after an uncertain amount of time she found herself staring into his eyes, his face flushed and expression one of gratifying awe. Outside the wind screeched, scouring snow along the roof and walls, and within her every emotion was both too much and yet not enough. When she opened her mouth to say something, _anything,_ all that came out was, “The soup’s going to burn.”

His ardor gentled into a fondness that almost made her even more breathless than she already was. Pressing a brief, soft kiss to her lips, he murmured, “We wouldn’t want that.”

_Good soup,_ she thought later, her gaze drifting to Ben over the rim of her bowl. 

He had tasted better, but the soup was good, too.


	16. petals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I hope you enjoy this earlier than usual post.
> 
> I want to give a shout-out to [caseydoesfandom](https://twitter.com/caseydoesfandom?lang=en) on twitter, who recced this story on her mini podcast Voicemails to Reylos. Thank you, Casey!

At first she thought it was a dream, and maybe it was. The embers in the hearth, Ben’s slow breath stirring her hair and his clothed body curled around hers (because what had been the use in sleeping apart or sleeping in shifts; the kiss had tossed every defense Rey possessed into the air and they had fallen like Kaydel’s rune stones, predicting the future: _my body will be his and his body will be mine and I want the warmth of him in every pore_ ), and at the edges of her vision a faint glow.

When she moved her head slightly to look toward the new source of light- Ben’s arm holding her tighter at the minute shift- she saw the man. A young man, with hair that curled in a familiar way and a scar not dissimilar to the man who slept behind her. A man not quite solid, limned in blue. 

Rey- who might be waking, or might be sleeping, or somewhere in between- knew a ghost when she saw one. 

_“Magic,”_ the ghost said solemnly, _“can be a pernicious little beast.”_

Her reply came out so softly as to be barely audible. “It keeps trying to kill me.”

Surprisingly he gave her a slow, crooked smile, one that would have been at home on Ben’s face. _“Cramming a wild animal into a cage too small for it tends to do that.”_

Rey huffed a disgusted sigh, only to bite back a smile of her own when Ben mumbled something into her hair, one of his legs slipping over hers. Pinned- and because she was surely asleep, she hardly cared that someone else saw. 

_“Let him sleep,”_ the ghost advised. _“You’ll have to befriend your magic, Rey. Tame it.”_

She blinked drowsily, considering those words. “And Ben doesn’t?”

_“Ben’s magic was born with him, and is as constant as the changing of seasons and the richness of earth. The magic in your blood is wild, and flared into being the moment you arrived.”_

She snorted, letting her eyes slip shut as she pulled the blankets up around her ears. “And whose fault is that?”

This was an odd dream. Perhaps the soup had been off; perhaps it would be best to pull the blankets up even higher and squirm a little bit more into Ben’s embrace. 

_“Padmé would love you,”_ she thought she heard the ghost mutter, and then he cleared his throat- if ghosts could do such a thing- and said, _“Rey.”_ Sternly, as if trying to grab control of the situation.

“Hmm?” Ben was warm, and Rey’s mindset was far too hazy for such seriousness. 

_“Harness it. Link it with his.”_

She was warm, and her stomach was full, and it was easy- easy, very easy- to slip back into sleep. Or deeper into sleep. 

She really wasn’t quite sure. 

\- - -

Rey had gone to bed to the sound of the wind screeching along the eaves, and woke to silence that held a veritable weight. Inside their shelter the air had cooled considerably, her only ready source of warmth Ben- Ben, whose breathing indicated that he was at least partially awake.

“I’ve always loved that sound,” he murmured sleepily. “When I would wake up after a bad storm, the courtyards covered in white, and all you could hear was the snow falling.”

He was right. Absent the wind there was the faint, faint, glittering sound of snow on snow, an almost noiseless noise that she had grown familiar with over the past weeks. 

“It always made me feel safe,” Ben continued. “Back when I still felt safe in bed.” 

She felt safe for the first time in days. Weeks, even- the first burned village had instilled a growing fear that had never quite ebbed, and the power that lived under her skin had only introduced new insecurities. At that moment, though- tucked under Ben’s arm, her back pressed firmly to his chest- there didn’t seem to be anything that could touch her. Even the feel of his morning arousal against her backside was intriguing, not threatening. 

“You’re in bed now,” she pointed out with a yawn, and received a snort in return.

“Blankets on a wooden floor aren’t quite the same thing. And I have you, here.” He lingered on _you,_ sounding quietly satisfied. “My lovely, stalwart guardian.”

“Don’t tease, Ben.”

“You nearly roasted a man in his own armor; I’m not teasing.” He shifted so that he was propped up on one elbow, his body a dark shape beside her. “We should practice your control.”

He was absolutely correct, but she was tired enough and hungry enough to level a frown on him at the suggestion. “You need a teacher,” Ben said almost apologetically, clearly sensing her displeasure. “All they found of my grandfather was a blackened corpse, Rey. Magic burned him alive from the inside. The army he destroyed was ash and bones; the local foliage obliterated.”

He leaned over her, planting his forearm on the blankets to the other side of her head. Their foreheads almost touched, and yet the darkness of the room and the way it veiled them both reminded her vividly of his cursed state. “His teacher said afterward that his magic was all storms and no gentle summer rain,” Ben murmured. “And while I love you, my storm, I would not have you burn out so quickly.”

Rey’s heart seemed to jostle inside her ribcage. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“Which part?” he asked in that same murmur, a murmur that itself alone made parts of her body soften and ache. “The warning, or that I love you? I’ve said the former before, and I thought the latter was obvious.”

Stymied, she held her tongue. He had never said the words. His actions had been clear enough, and he had stated his intentions, but he had never said the words- and Rey wasn’t quite sure why words suddenly mattered so much more to her than deeds, when her first twenty years had taught her that what was said aloud could never be trusted.

He brushed a kiss over her forehead before moving away, slipping out from under the blankets to make his way to the hearth. Rey turned to her side, watching as he coaxed the embers back to life and gradually built up a fire from almost nothing to a cheerful blaze. When Ben finally looked back at her, he didn’t seem surprised by her scrutiny. 

“I,” Rey said slowly, careful not to let the _I love you_ she could feel weighing down her tongue slip free, “will practice.” She paused, considering the soft set of his mouth. “And you will keep a minimum of thirty feet back, preferably more.”

Her previous lapses in control could have irreparably harmed him, even killed him. If Rey hurt him now, this close to reuniting him with Leia (and Han, her heart insisted), she would never be able to face either of his parents again. 

He was smiling slightly as he searched through the saddlebag that held their food supplies. “Porridge, sweetheart?”

Rey wanted porridge, but she also wanted confirmation. “Ben.”

“What kind of teacher would I be, shouting instructions from the other side of the village?”

“ _Ben._ ”

“Even my uncle wouldn’t lower himself to such cowardice.”

Rey frowned, sitting up in the nest of blankets. “You are… annoying.”

“Yes,” he answered easily, in a low, amused tone, and leaned toward her. “I’ll behave… if you let me within five feet of your practice.”

“I doubt that,” she muttered, knowing herself to be a little unfair. Compared to her, Ben had been a model of restraint since his wakening- a cuddly one, perhaps, but he could hardly do otherwise riding double on a horse. Rey was the one throwing barely controlled magic all over the place. 

He was still leaning in her direction, and at her words his gaze dropped to her mouth. “I have been very well-behaved,” he said, setting aside the saddlebag, and she wasn’t entirely sure if she had offended him or if he had taken her reply as a challenge. “I’ve hardly tried to seduce you at all.”

A short laugh escaped her. “We’ve hardly had time,” Rey said, knowing that she was being provoking but unable to resist. 

“Hmm.” Coming to his knees, he slid his fingers into her hair, tilting her face up to him. “You don’t feel at all tempted by me?” he asked, voice somehow both vulnerable and annoyingly knowing. “Is your magic the only fire you feel?”

She loved him. She loved the quiver of his lower lip and the way he had wrapped himself around her in sleep and the fact that he would have thrown himself weaponless at Hux and his men if she hadn’t resorted to magic first. She loved the tenor of his voice and every inch of muscle in his large frame.

_Stars._ Rey felt her cheeks flood with heat under his palms, and knew the wash of color hadn’t gone unnoticed. _I would lie down for him right now, with or without the damn tea._

Her thinking was disordered. Everything about her seemed scattered, her only anchor Ben and his dark eyes. “I’m… warm,” she said, flustered. 

“You are?” One of his thumbs caressed the ridge of her cheekbone, skimming over heated skin. “Ahh.” Far too satisfied, that purred sound, and if she hadn’t been so enthralled she might have bristled in response. “You are.” 

And then his mouth was on hers in a manner far more demanding than the night before, devouring her with an intensity she hadn’t expected. Every limb melted, every bit of her skin under his touch sang, and every iota of her attention was focused on his lips and tongue and hands, her own hands curled loosely around his wrists. 

When he broke away, taking at least half of her better sense with him, he waited until her eyes were open before saying, “I’ll kiss you again when you can light a fire without giving yourself a fever.”

Rey- aroused, annoyed, and befuddled- pulled away and began to straighten the blankets.

Inside her, the ghosts of old memory shivered down her spine and clutched at her throat.

\- - -

The wind had left deep drifts of snow against the walls of their shelter and across the village, but they were able to leave through the front door with only a little trouble.

“We might as well stay a day or two,” Ben said as she lifted her eyes to a brilliantly blue and cloudless sky, taking no joy in it. “If you burn a building down here it would be a non-issue.”

Without reply Rey waded through the snow to feed and water Falcon. The horse whickered with seeming cheerfulness when he saw Rey, and accepted her offerings as his due. “I’m going to shove him into a snowbank,” she muttered to the horse as she shoveled out soiled straw. “I’m-”

She stopped, her breathing ragged. 

How dare he.

How dare he dangle the promise of kisses like a fucking carrot.

How dare a part of her mind long for the incentive. 

She wasn’t sure which betrayal hurt more, she only knew that it _hurt._

When she left the stable (after scrupulously cleaning the stall, after lingering as long as she could stand), she found that Ben had cleared a small patch of ground and was in the process of heaping kindling in the center. “It’s damp,” he said, “but that shouldn’t matter, not with magic.”

Rey eyed the pile of sticks, mouth dry, then turned her attention to a half-toppled stone wall. “I’m not working on fire.” 

He had the temerity to look amused, of all things. “Is that so? What will you be doing instead?”

“Lifting rocks.” A small piece shot into the air, barely controlled at all, and she clenched her hands into fists. Had she not been wearing gloves, her nails would have bit into flesh. Rey tried again while biting out, “I can’t be trusted with fire right now.”

Not that rocks were much safer. Without even considering her actions she snuck a glance in his direction and found that his amusement had completely died, leaving behind concern and wary confusion. “Rey?”

“I won’t be bribed with physical affection.” She purposefully looked away from him, not wanting to see his face. A third rock shot straight into the sky before plummeting back to the ground, thumping into the snow. “For years Plutt only fed me when he thought I deserved to be fed. I won’t be treated like that again, Ben, no matter the prize. If you don’t want to kiss me that’s fine, and you’re right that I have to learn control, but I will _not_ jump through hoops when you say just to be touched.”

The next rock wobbled in mid-air, dipping a little toward the ground before she jerked it back up to eye-level. “Do you understand?” she asked with as much dignity as she could muster, hearing her voice crack. A hot tear slid down one cheek, but she didn’t even try to wipe it away. “I need you to understand.”

When his hands closed gently on her shoulders she let the rock fall. “Sweetheart.” 

Rey let him turn her around, catching only a glimpse of his stricken expression before she was drawn into a tight embrace, her face pressed to his shoulder. “You’re right,” he said quickly, quietly. “You’re right, and I’m so sorry, Rey. I never should have said it.”

“I’m just-”

Rey hiccuped, momentarily giving up on controlling anything, even her tongue. “I’m just tired of being starved.” Too many tears to count, now, all dampening his doublet. 

“Will you look at me? Please?”

Ben’s cheeks were wet when she looked up, his mouth soft and trembling. “You’ll never go hungry again,” he promised, every word infused with emotion and heavy with determination. “For anything, including me. I swear.”

Rey pulled his head down, catching him in a messy kiss that tasted of both their tears. Under her hands he seemed to quiver, though his arms held her steadily. “I love you,” he murmured against her lips when she caught a breath, his hair brushing against her cheeks. “Rey. Sweetheart.”

It was too much. Exhaustion, emotional and physical, pulled at her limbs. Shifting in his embrace, she buried her face against his chest. “I need to sleep,” she admitted in a mumble. “Before I practice again, I need to sleep.”

“Come inside, then.” He was all tenderness, his nose nuzzling against her hair. “We’ve both been run ragged over the past few days.”

They turned, Ben keeping one arm around her, to make their way to the cabin.

And stopped.

To the right of the door a riot of wild roses clambered up the wall, blooming with abandon in complete disregard to the season. Even from where they stood Rey could smell the first hints of perfume, warm despite the icy cold. One pink petal fell, spiraling lazily through the air before landing on the snow.

“He must have had a sweetness to him,” Rey said after a moment, leaning her head against Ben’s shoulder. She couldn’t find it in her, at that moment, to be scared- there was only fatigue and quiet understanding. “Your grandfather.”

“Yes,” Ben agreed slowly. “He must have.”

Before they crossed the threshold, he plucked a bloom and- after stripping away the thorns- slipped it into her hair. 

\- - -

The roses did not die that day, nor the next.

“I wonder if your grandmother liked roses,” Rey mused as she took a break from lifting rocks. She felt tired, but pleasantly so, and was beginning to feel that control might some day be attainable. 

Eventually. Her rocks occasionally went wildly and dangerously astray.

“There is- or was- a garden full of them at the palace.” Ben stroked a hand over her hair, bending to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “A statue made in her likeness was placed there after she died.”

A gust of rose-scented air washed over them, summer and winter all at once. “We should take some to your mother, when we leave,” Rey said quietly. “If you think they would last.”

“For her, they might. We’re not that far, now.” He glanced toward her scattered rocks. “We could leave in the morning.”

“I think that would be best; we’re almost out of food.” Rey hoped that their ghost would take her words seriously, instead of sending another storm and dropping half a deer at their doorstep. “And I know you want to see her.”

And when he did, everything would change- though Rey was no longer sure how. She had developed a shaky confidence that she wouldn’t be shunted aside, but…

“It would be scandalous if we shared a- if we shared living space, wouldn’t it?” she asked. 

Ben considered her question for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “In the society I remember, yes. Among my mother’s people… maybe. Maybe not. My mother might have stronger feelings on that matter than anyone else.”

Rey watched the roses tremble in the wind, an eddy of petals falling away, and realized that she wasn’t worried about Leia the Queen. Leia the Mother worried her, and uncertainty over where Rey would lay her own head worried her, and Han and Chewie’s potential absence worried her, but-

“She called me her daughter, before I left.”

“That will still hold true, but I refuse to call you my sister.” Ben gently curved one gloved hand around the back of her neck, pulling her attention back to him. “When you’re ready- if you’re ever ready- I’ll call you my wife.”

He would. She knew he would, and that she would find the word sweet on his tongue. Instead of replying she stepped into his embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around him. One day she would give him an answer. One day it might even be ‘yes’.

They left the next morning, a bundle of roses on Rey’s lap and her mouth kiss-swollen.

As they rode away every bloom on the cabin walls released its petals, which were carried in a swirl of pink into the trees.


	17. home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Before we embark on a long awaited homecoming, allow me to direct your attention to this beautiful [moodboard](https://lachesisgrimm.tumblr.com/post/184421105880/the-lovely-mhcalamas-made-this-exquisite) made by [mhcalamas](https://mhcalamas.tumblr.com/)!

The village hadn’t changed at all. Smoke curled from sound chimneys, doors were shut tight against the cold, and everything outside gave evidence that happy, healthy people lived within.

“I haven’t seen an inhabited village in… in too long,” Rey admitted quietly as they broke through the tree-line. The roses, still fresh and dewy, wreathed them in scent. “Or one that hasn’t been destroyed in one way or another.”

“As our short time in the woods has proven, Anakin protects his own,” Ben said, sounding understandably distracted.

One door opened, a warmly-clad Finn stepping outside. On spotting Rey a smile spread over his face, his hand lifting in welcome, only to have his expression turn confused when he noted her mount and Han’s absence. 

When he saw the man riding behind her his hand dropped like a stone, confusion replaced by horror. “ _Rey._ ”

Ben’s arms tightened around her waist, jostling the flowers. Rey took in as deep a breath as his grip allowed, reminding herself not to snap at Finn. It would take time for the truth to be understood; it would take time to erase years of lies and misconceptions. And given that everyone had thought Ben dead- well, seeing him very much alive would surprise nearly anyone. 

“Hello, Finn.” She would be kind, and she would be calm, and at the first opportunity she would kiss what was likely a guarded look off of Ben’s face. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

Finn’s brow creased, though his smile cautiously returned. “Thank you.” His gaze remained on Ben. “Where have you been, Rey?”

“Everywhere, it feels like.” She laid a hand on Ben’s arm. “I’ve brought someone home.”

“I can see that.”

A silence fell over their small group, broken only by Falcon shifting his weight with a whicker. “This close to a familiar stable, no wonder he’s impatient,” Ben said quietly, sounding as if he were doing his level best to act as normal as possible. “He deserves a rest and a good currying.”

“Right.” Finn gave Ben one last, long look. “Leia was at a birthing until early in the morning. You should still find her at home.”

“Thank you, Finn.” On impulse, Rey held out one of the blooms. “For Rose.”

Slowly, he accepted the gift. “Thank you,” he said a little doubtfully, the _I think_ unsaid but perfectly clear. He seemed to come to some kind of decision, nodding his head. “Wait here.”

He disappeared inside, returning a minute later with empty hands. “Let me take Falcon,” he offered. “I’ll make sure he’s settled.”

Perhaps it was out of kindness, or perhaps he didn’t want a potentially dangerous man to have the advantage of a mount. It didn’t matter, Rey decided. It was, at the very least, a kindness to Falcon, who had carried them without complaint through arduous conditions. Ben seemed to come to a similar conclusion, because his hold on her eased in a way that seemed relieved. They both dismounted, Rey carefully holding the bouquet in her arms as Ben made quick work of unbuckling the saddlebags. 

Other doors opened: Kaydel with her broom, sweeping out the day’s dust until she froze at the sight of them. Poe and his dog, Beebee, the latter circling them at a run with a happy bark before returning to her master. One of Malla’s daughters, her youngest sibling on one hip.

And there Rey stood, hands full of improbable roses and a dead man standing beside her. 

“Take me to my mother,” Ben said in a strained whisper, looking uncomfortable with so many eyes on him. “Please.”

No one stopped them on their short progress through the village. Rey had the sense that no one dared. She had been right, months before- and how odd it was, that she had only been in Alderaan for a handful of _months_ \- Leia was the final word in this village, and Leia alone, and there Leia was, sweeping the snow off of her steps. A queen in warm, brown-dyed wool, hands calloused and head free of a crown, but a queen nonetheless. 

Perhaps it was their footsteps on the snow that drew her attention, or perhaps it was the odd silence permeating the village, but whatever the reason Leia looked up from her work and looked first to Rey. The immediate warmth in her expression was dizzying. No casual welcome there, in Leia’s face: unmitigated joy, and surprise, and a satisfaction that made Rey’s breath come short. 

Leia’s eyes shifted to Ben, in the casual way of someone whose thoughts were elsewhere, and on him they stayed.

Time seemed to elongate as seconds took on the burden of hours, or months, of years. She looked like a woman seeing a ghost- and then, as reality set in, a mother grasping an unforeseen second chance. 

All she said was his name, faint and worn and tentative, the broom dropping from her hands. “Ben?” 

“Mother.” Ben took in a shaky breath and stepped forward. “I’ve missed you.”

Leia moved quickly down the steps and across the snow, throwing herself into her son’s arms. The moment they embraced Rey eased back, struck by one lightning-quick thought: _I shouldn’t be here._

She shouldn’t- couldn’t- watch them like a voyeur. The moment wasn’t hers, but one many years delayed, and she would- she would-

_Put away the roses._

Skirting around the pair, Rey entered Leia’s home with quiet steps. Found a bowl, filled it with water. Arranged the flowers as if her life depended on their placement, carelessly nicking one finger on a thorn. That chore done, she considered what to do with herself.

_I’ll go to the bathhouse,_ she decided. She would find one of her dresses and creep away, and perhaps by the time she had finished scrubbing herself raw her next step would be clear. The fact that her dresses had all been autumn-weight hardly mattered; anything clean would be an improvement over her current state. Moving toward the clothes chest, Rey lifted the lid in hopes that something of her own would be near at hand, only to find nothing of the sort: just Leia’s skirts and dresses and chemises, her stockings and shawls. Frowning- trying to ignore the hint of panic in her belly- Rey straightened, looking around the room in search of where her things might have gone.

There was a new door.

_I walked right past it._ Curious, Rey crossed the room and peeked within. Inside, shutters were closed against the light, but enough crept in to reveal a bed, a chest, and a table with a washbasin.

“I had it built for you.”

Startled, Rey turned, one hand on the door-frame.

“More comfortable than a pallet in front of the hearth, I think,” Leia continued, her face tear-stained. Ben stood behind her, both of them appearing happy, if shaken- and in their eyes, a depth of raw emotion that had no name. “Though I suppose I’ll have to make one after all,” she said, looking back at her son with a wondering laugh. 

And Rey didn’t know what to say. A space that belonged to _her,_ in name and in intent. Proof of permanence; a door that was hers to shut or open at will- what did one say after such a gift? What was there to say?

“I,” she began, the word coming out thickly as her emotions threatened to get the better of her. 

“Don’t even consider offering me that bed,” Ben interrupted in a raspy voice, knowing her too well. “It’s yours, Rey.” 

He spoke her name with gentle, unmistakable intimacy, and in response Leia’s brows rose, a flicker of intrigue crossing her face- and then her gaze fell on the roses resting on her kitchen table, and Rey saw the moment when she truly registered not only the mystery of Ben’s existence, but who, exactly, was absent. 

“I have-”

Leia paused, tilting her head slightly to the side. “I have a lot of questions.” When she looked up from the roses Rey sucked in a breath at her expression, which was an odd blend of gratitude and resignation and fatigue. “But I think they would best be asked over a meal and something strong, don’t you?”

Ben smiled faintly, but Ben- who still stood behind his mother- hadn’t seen her face. “Probably.”

“So.” Leia held Rey’s gaze for a long moment, her eyes asking questions Rey couldn’t begin to answer, and then turned to Ben. “So. A bath and clean clothes for each of you, I think, while I cook… and if _either_ of you disappear in the next hour, just know that I will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”

_There_ was the queen, her voice firm and her orders not to be quarreled with.

“We wouldn’t dare,” Ben assured her. “Would we, Rey?”

“No.” That, at least, Rey could say with certainty. “We wouldn’t.”

\- - -

Ben insisted she bathe first, and so she did- though he did remain in the small ante-chamber while she scrubbed away days of sweat and grime, and she suspected it was because he wasn’t yet ready to roam the village alone. Not that she blamed him, if that was the case; the villagers had regarded him like he was a vengeful ghost, come to collect all their souls. 

They might have reconsidered their impression if they had seen him the moment Rey stepped out of the bathing room, garbed in blue with her hair damp around her shoulders. It was a _new_ gown, one of four that Leia had sewn and laid away against her return (which had only served to further shake Rey’s unsteady emotional state), and from the look in his eyes her warm wool might as well have been clinging silks. 

“Rey.”

“Ben.”

Carefully, as though he might contaminate her, he grasped her chin between two fingers and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “I admit that I had thoughts of slipping into your bed after dark,” he murmured. “Clearly that won’t be happening.”

“Your mother would have questions,” she agreed, missing his touch when his hand dropped away. “More than she already has.”

One corner of his mouth quirked upward slightly. “She wouldn’t have questions; I just don’t want to hear a lecture when she catches me in the act. Very unprincely, tripping over one’s feet while sneaking into a lover’s room.” 

“You don’t seem the type to trip.” He also didn’t seem the type to slip into just anyone’s bed, but Rey had to admit that she wanted him to slip into hers. One second alone, under blankets in the dark, the next surrounded by Ben’s warmth and a soft _shhh, it’s only me._ A lingering kiss against her neck, a hand curving over her stomach, and then just… Ben. Ben, sleepy and clinging and hard to resist.

“You never know with unfamiliar rooms.” He tweaked a strand of her hair between his fingers. “I would love…”

“What?” she asked when his voice faltered.

“To braid your hair.”

A deceptively simple request, but the look in his eyes, her memory of Leia’s braids before she had left, all added up to something more, something she might not be ready to give. “What would it mean?”

Fascinatingly he blushed, color blooming on his cheeks. “It would be a very strong indication of my intentions.”

Rey raised a brow, believing him and yet wondering if he was, perhaps, toeing the line of the truth. “Courtships in Alderaan are just full of hair-braiding, then?”

“It’s considered a very intimate act. Not an obscene one,” he added when her brow rose even higher. “It was a little old-fashioned when I was sent away from court; by now it’s probably archaic.”

She allowed herself a quiet laugh, at least partially inspired by how incredibly wistful he sounded. “Now?”

“No.” A hint of satisfaction appeared on his face. “When my hands are clean.”

Another kiss, one firmer and more thorough than the first, and she was out the door into the cold. 

Where no one- _no one_ \- waited, or lingered nearby, or was even visible in the distance. But it was just barely dusk, Rey reminded herself- time for everyone to begin their retreat indoors, and if she hadn’t just spent several days in a rose-bedecked cabin she would be tempted to linger nervously at the bathhouse’s entrance, ready to grab Ben’s hand the moment he emerged and drag him to safety. 

_Still,_ Rey acknowledged ruefully as she made her way back to Leia’s cabin, _I’ll feel better when Ben is… home._

It took her a moment to muster up the courage to step inside by herself, unsure what she would be facing. An interrogation, perhaps, or a spoon thrust into her hand with a request to stir, but what she received was something else altogether. Leia set aside the knife she had been using to slice bread and moved toward her, hands coming up to frame Rey’s face. 

“My girl,” Leia said warmly, _proudly,_ a glimmer of tears in her eyes, “you continue to be full of surprises.”

A small kindness, and on any other day it would have bolstered Rey’s spirits. She would have walked away humming, ready to turn her hand to whatever chores needed doing. It would have been a happy memory to tuck away.

Instead, on that day, at that moment, that one small kindness was the proverbial last straw after days of tumultuous emotion and a journey that was finally, _finally_ at an end.

She burst into tears.

“Rey,” Leia murmured, pulling her into a tight hug, “you must have gone to the underworld and back.” 

Rey laughed shakily, her tears dampening Leia’s shoulder. “I- I-”

“I suppose you know everything now, hmmm? Even more than me, at the moment.” Leia’s tone was low and comforting, one hand rubbing Rey’s back soothingly. “I should have told you before you left instead of sending you on your way with only scraps of truth, relying on Han to fill in the gaps.” A thread of amusement crept into her voice. “I had a feeling he would, eventually.”

Han. Her throat clenched as the guilt that had lain quiet for days, tempered by Ben’s assurances and Rey’s own logic, came surging back to the fore. For one crystalline moment she could _feel_ the same panic and frustration and fear she had felt as Falcon carried her away from the ambush, and barely comprehensible words tumbled from her mouth. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

Leia pulled back, her expression stern. “For what, exactly?” She shook her head when Rey opened her mouth to reply. “Don’t. You, my girl, have been left to shoulder too many burdens for far too long- and if your apology has to do with Han and Chewie’s absence, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I-”

“Rey,” Leia interrupted, firmly but gently, “I’ve known those two longer than you’ve been alive. Not even a god could have stopped them from doing whatever foolhardy and brave thing they did to secure your safety.”

Rey blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“There was some kind of danger, wasn’t there?” Leia pulled a handkerchief from one pocket and pressed it into Rey’s hands. “I imagine you came up against plenty of dangers, and one proved too trying.”

“Han sent me away,” Rey whispered, staring down at the small piece of neatly hemmed fabric through eyes half-blinded by tears. In one corner was an embroidered rose. “He didn’t give me a choice.”

“Just like the man,” Leia said with a slight, fond smile that barely hid her pain. “Just like the pair of them.”

She waited while Rey blew her nose, waited while Rey roughly dashed away tears with the backs of her hands. And then, just as Rey managed to establish a fragile equilibrium: “But their gambit succeeded.” Leia stroked Rey’s hair, the look in her eyes utterly earnest. “They sent both my children home to me.”

What little composure Rey had managed to scrounge up vanished; her remaining emotional armor shattered, leaving her raw and shaken in the middle of the room where she had first learned what safety could be. She sat down hard in a nearby chair, face in her hands as she struggled to breathe. “Ridiculous,” she managed, a hitch in her voice. “Falling apart when- when you- and _Ben_ -”

Leia gave a sudden, sharp laugh, one hand falling onto Rey’s shoulder. “Dearheart, what I know about your past could fit in a teacup and I can still tell that you are overdue for a good, cathartic cry. We all are. When Ben gets in we’ll get drunk and wail.”

Rey laughed herself, the sound broken. “I love him,” Rey admitted, her heated cheeks still pressed into her palms. “Ben. I love Ben. I don’t know what to do.”

For a moment Leia was silent, her hand flexing slightly on Rey’s shoulder. “Have you told him?”

“No.” Wearily Rey dropped her hands to her lap, slumping back in the chair. “I… I’ve been talking to him for _months_ , Leia. Since the night I arrived. I thought- I thought he lived here.”

“Ahh,” Leia said under her breath.

“I’m telling this all out of order,” Rey muttered, sniffling, and Leia immediately moved to stand in front of her. 

“Some stories,” she said, “some stories can’t be told in a comfortable, linear fashion.” Leia cupped her face in one hand, bending toward her. “I’ll put the pieces together. And you are _exactly_ what I always wanted for Ben. But no matter what you decide, or he decides, you’ll always be a member of my family. Do you understand?”

Rey released a shuddering breath, feeling hollowed out, and realized that she was at a crossroads. She could rebuild her armor, retreating from everything they offered into the cold kind of safety she knew well. She could make a tower of herself, isolated and untouchable. 

But she didn’t want to. She had been sold and starved and preyed upon, and that would always be her foundation- but she could still build something better atop that. Something lovely, and solid. “Yes.”

“Good.” Leia tucked a stray strand of hair behind Rey’s ear. “A cool compress, I think,” she said. “That always makes me feel better.”

And though it was a simple thing, Leia was right- it did make Rey feel better. 

\- - -

She must have fallen asleep briefly, there in Leia’s comfortable padded chair, because the sound of the door opening pulled her from a languid haze, her limbs heavy.

“She doesn’t sleep nearly enough,” she heard Ben murmur over the quiet _thunk_ of the crossbar being set into place. Rey managed to open her eyes as he crossed the room, looking up just in time to see him smile down at her. He had shaved, and she found that she was glad of it. “Perhaps we should just put you to bed now,” he said softly, cool fingertips sliding along the line of her jaw. 

“No.” She sat up, yawning. “I’m hungry.”

The dinner was a quiet one. Leia watched them both with a considering look, seeming to mull over something as she refilled bowls and slid second and third pieces of buttered bread onto their plates. Finally, their stomachs full, she sat them both down in front of the hearth and uncorked a bottle of golden liquid. 

Ben, who had chosen to sit at Rey’s feet, accepted his glass with a crooked smile. “This smells like the honey mead the castle brew-mistress used to make,” he commented, and took a sip. “Tastes like it, too.”

“It should. She and her family live nearby.” Leia sat, looking at her son with an expression that held a lingering trace of wonder. “I still can’t believe you’re here,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “I thought- we all thought- _stars,_ ” she muttered, her wonder disappearing in a wash of guilt and regret. 

Before either of them could reply, Leia sighed and continued. “Tell me everything.”

And they did, with a few exceptions. Not necessarily in correct order, and at times in a blend of both their voices (Rey’s “I may have overreacted” overlapping with Ben’s “She accused me of abandoning my nonexistent betrothed,” his tone faintly miffed), but with tongues gradually loosened by spirits they laid out a fair picture of what had happened to Ben, and what had happened to Rey, and what they had done together. The dagger Rey placed on the small table between herself and Leia, firelight playing off the honed blade.

They said nothing of how Rey had broken the curse, or of Ben’s declaration of love, or of the kisses they had shared since. _Not that keeping silent matters,_ Rey thought as Leia lightly stroked the dagger’s handle with a single fingertip. _I’ve already blabbed enough for her to guess most of the rest._

And then, when there was nothing else to be said, came the moment Rey had initially avoided. 

Luke. 

In careful, halting words Rey recounted his confession, watching as Leia’s face drained of color. “That explains,” she said slowly, gaze shifting to somewhere in the middle distance, “quite a bit.” She swirled what liquid remained in her glass absently, blinking back tears. “Well.”

Ben leaned his head against Rey’s knee, silent. It was easier to look down at him, at the way he looked in the flickering light, than to watch Leia come to terms with the blow. Needing something, anything to do with her hands that didn’t involve drinking more mead, her tired mind recalled his words about braids and intentions. 

His hair was soft as her fingers idly, clumsily criss-crossed strands, her creation an untidy one. With a barely audible sigh Rey released the braid, combing out the loosening strands with her fingers.

Leia huffed a soft laugh, setting her glass down with the air of someone putting aside temptation. “To bed, I think.” Her smile was strained, but warmed when she leaned forward to touch Ben’s cheek. “I am _so_ glad to have you both home.”

“I wish we could tell a happier story,” Ben commented quietly, and she shook her head. 

“Having you both here is happiness enough,” she said. “As bittersweet as the whole tale might be, this moment is worth every moment of pain. Chewie would agree. Your father would agree.” Leia stood, the movement sudden and brisk. She would cry, Rey suspected, once they were all in bed and darkness brought its own kind of privacy. She would cry, but she was telling the truth. 

“Now,” Leia continued, putting away the significantly emptied bottle, “we need to make a comfortable bed for Ben.” A brief, brief pause. “Unless you would like to share yours, Rey.”

Spoken casually, almost delicately. If Leia had any scruples concerning unmarried couples sleeping together, Rey couldn’t detect them at that moment.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she offered tentatively, not missing the softness in Ben’s eyes when he turned his head to look up at her. 

“Excellent.” Leia lined up the three glasses on the kitchen table, her back to them. “It’s going to be a cold night.” That same tone, with an unexpected note of mischief. “You can keep each other warm.”


	18. touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:
> 
> 1\. As this chapter picks up almost immediately after the last one ends, it is important to note that while our love birds have been drinking they are sober enough to consent to various adult activities, and
> 
> 2\. For the sake of Leia's sanity, let's just go ahead and assume that the walls of Rey's room are very thick.

It had been one thing, sharing a bedroll with Ben on a hard floor with both of them still mostly clothed. Sweet, in its own way, and oddly appropriate given their circumstances, as if the most prudish of sticklers could walk in on them and begrudgingly understand the set-up. 

The bed, on the other hand, with its soft pillows and linens that smelled of herbs, was a far more intimate situation. As she pulled the covers up around her shoulders, the atmosphere felt almost marital. 

And she _liked_ it.

“Do you want me to blow out the candle?”

Rey didn’t, particularly. Ben was suited to the glow of candlelight, or perhaps he simply looked his best when lying in bed, gazing directly at her. He extended one arm in invitation. “I’m not going to pounce on you,” he said quietly, a slight smile on his face. “I promise.”

She shifted over, resting her head on his upper arm and taking in her new vantage point. His features were all shadows and light, this close, and she lifted one hand to trace the outline of his mouth with her fingertips. “I don’t know where these lips came from in your family tree,” she mused aloud, “but they are very, very good.”

He chuckled, pulling her closer until they were nearly chest to chest. “You can give your compliments to my mother in the morning.”

“No.” _Might as well be wearing nothing,_ Rey thought as the heat of his body began to seep through her shift. One layer of clothing for her, a nightshirt for him, and nothing else. Her toes brushed against his bare shins. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Not that Leia would be offended; Rey suspected that the comment would give her a good laugh.

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Will you let me touch you, Rey?”

_Yes. Please. Don’t stop._ “You are,” she replied instead, proud that she sounded pert instead of breathless. 

Ben gathered her in for a lingering kiss, the shape of his mouth against hers making it clear that he was smiling. “So I am,” he murmured. “But somewhere else?” His hand moved over the top of the blankets, stopping above the apex of her thighs. “Here.” There was a look of intense longing in his eyes, as if fingering her by candlelight would be the culmination of his fondest wishes. “Please.”

_Stars, yes._ “Why?”

“Because I want to pleasure you.” Plainly stated, but in a low voice that made her quiver. “That’s reason enough.” 

“Oh.” She licked her lips, finding that not a hint of objection sprang to mind. Nerves, yes, but her quickening pulse, the brush of cloth over hardening nipples and sensitive skin all argued persuasively in Ben’s favor. “You… you might as well, then.”

He didn’t throw back the blankets or change positions; he only slid his hand under the covers and grasped her shift, pulling it slowly upward as he watched her face. “Tell me if you want to stop.” 

Just the feel of him drawing up her clothing was odd and wonderful and overwhelming. “I will.” 

“Because you look a little terrified,” he noted as he bundled the shift around her waist, brow creasing with concern. “Though you’re hiding it brilliantly.”

“Even good things can be scary the first time,” Rey muttered with a blush, trying not to sound defensive. “I _want,_ Ben.”

Relief suffused his features. “Just nerves?” One corner of his mouth quirked up as his hand slid lower, fingertips barely touching her curls. In his eyes was a vulnerability and an eagerness to please that more than matched his desire. “I’m nervous, too. I would never want you to… to _endure_ me.” Ben’s face darkened as he said the word. “And theoretical knowledge only goes so far.”

“Well.” Rey said, feeling almost shy at that bundled confession- shy, and very much in love. “I expect we’ll need to practice. Often. So this needn’t be a… a final judgment.”

His smile returned, soft and lazy. “A fair point.”

He cupped her with one large, warm hand, and instinctively she twisted her upper body to bury her face in his shoulder. “Keep going,” she said quickly when he tensed. “Please.”

It was too much, the intensity of his eyes mixed with his touch. She would have to acclimate herself to it little by little or she would burn to ash with each caress; she would fall apart from only a kiss on the forehead and memory. As it was, she whimpered when his fingers stroked her for the first time, grateful for his sturdy arm around her back, gathering her close. 

“ _Rey._ ” Almost a purr, his nose nuzzling into her hair. “So lovely. So warm.”

Ben didn’t rush; each stroke was gentle and exploratory as he mapped her out with patient thoroughness. “Do you like this?” he asked as a finger circled her most sensitive spot, making a satisfied kind of sound in the back of his throat at her muffled gasp, at the way her arm snaked around him to clutch the fabric of his nightshirt. “Tell me, Rey.”

She wasn’t sure if ‘like’ was the right word. It was hard to concentrate on anything other than his fingers between her legs; impossible to do more than tilt her hips into his hand in a silent request for _more, please, please._

“I dreamed of doing this while I was still asleep.” Slowly one finger slid in deep, his thumb brushing over her clit. “Of kneeling under your skirts and pleasuring you with my mouth. Of bending you over a table so that you wouldn’t have to see a void while I was inside you.”

“I-”

Rey sucked in air, dizzy with the sensation of the gentle thrust of his finger, the circling caress of his thumb. “I loved your hands before- before I ever saw your face.”

“Did you?” He sounded pleased by that revelation, and pressed a kiss against her hair. “Did you think of my hands, Rey?”

“Yes.”

“Doing this?” A second finger joined the first.

“ _Yes._ ”

“Good.”

Good. It was good, the way she shook in his hold, the way starlight seemed to shoot through her veins, the way he murmured quiet praise as she rocked her hips with increasing franticness against his hand. It was good. It was all good, and she was- she would-

Rey turned her face upward, Ben so close that the tips of their noses nearly brushed. “There’s my storm,” he said with unmistakable tenderness, fingers crooking forward. His mouth closed over hers in a fierce kiss, swallowing her sharp cry as every bit of her seemed to unravel, her mind nowhere and everywhere and utterly _blank_.

She melted, making a disgruntled sound when the warmth of Ben’s hand slipped away. 

“You can have it back later,” he informed her, and where she might have expected amusement or satisfaction in his voice there was only something far, far gentler. “Go to sleep, Rey.”

It was difficult to think straight, but she still protested. “You.”

“Me.” He wrapped himself around her, his erection obvious even through the mass of cloth at her midsection. “You are exhausted, sweetheart. Sleep.” He huffed a laugh. “My condition is temporary.”

Rey planted her hands against his chest and shoved- not with all of her strength, because he had successfully wrecked her, but with enough force to create space between them. “Show me.”

For a moment he held still, examining her face. “You aren’t required to give me ease.”

“I know. Show me.”

Untangling himself from her, Ben folded the covers back on his side, yanking his nightshirt up. “You did enjoy that?” he asked, voice thready as he wrapped the same hand that had been so diligent between her legs around his cock. 

“Very much,” Rey replied, more than a little distracted as she arranged her upper body on his chest to get a better view. That part of him wasn’t beautiful, exactly, but… she wasn’t sure there was a way to describe how she felt. She was only sure of the fact that his body was eager, and that the sight of him pleasuring himself was chasing away the lassitude and leaving her feeling very, very warm. 

“Good.” More a gasp than an actual spoken word. “If my cock disappoints you, I’ll always have my fingers. My tongue.”

Clenching her thighs tightly together, Rey reached out to touch. “I don’t think I’ll be disappointed.” Not with the way Ben touched her, not with the way he looked at her. 

He released a shuddering breath when her fingers lightly caressed the head. “Sweetheart.”

“Let go.”

His cock looked even larger with her smaller hand wrapped around him. She carefully stroked, trying to emulate his movements. “What if I disappoint you?”

Ben grasped her bare hip under the covers, his chest rising and falling rapidly underneath her. “Couldn’t possibly. You looked so-”

His gasp when she experimentally squeezed lightly was encouraging. 

“-so beautiful when you came. So perfect.”

Rey looked back at his face. His eyes were closed, cheeks flushed red and lips trembling. “Ben.”

He seemed to be determinedly hanging on to control with the same panache as a man dangling from a cliff by his fingertips. “Hmm?”

“I love you, you know.” 

The words couldn’t be held back for any longer, and Rey wasn’t surprised when his eyelids flew open, grip tightening on her hip. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” she added softly.

His laugh was an unsteady, awed creation as he cupped her cheek in his free hand, fingers trembling. “Rey. I know.” He was thrusting with no discernible rhythm, the movement almost involuntary. In the grip of something primal and he was still trying not to overwhelm her- and that, Rey thought, just made her love him all the more.

He didn’t last very long after that, biting back something that was an amalgamation of a gasp and a growl as hot fluid splashed over her wrist and onto his stomach. _Next time I’ll watch,_ Rey promised herself. _Next time._

But that time- the first time- she had been too greedy to look away from his face. Not a single attempt to moderate his response- just Ben, every emotion and reaction written plain.

Rey curled up at his side, waiting for him to say something, anything. She had leapt off her own cliff, of sorts. She felt as if she were still falling. 

_I might always,_ she realized. Taking the man meant taking a kingdom, even if they died in the attempt, and a part of her still balked at that final step.

_But I can have this, can’t I?_ she thought a little desperately. _We can enjoy ourselves, and then-_

“I know,” Ben repeated, interrupting her thoughts, his words coming out with languorous satisfaction. “You braided my hair.”

“Poorly.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Sleepy-eyed and disheveled, Ben smiled in a way more sweet than wicked. “You still braided my hair. In front of my mother.” He held up his bundled nightshirt as he slipped out of bed. “And I’m going to braid yours in the morning, in the village square.”

Rey instantly blushed. “You will not.”

Ben poured a small portion of water from the jug into the washbasin before replying. “Inside, then,” he said, dampening a cloth and swabbing his stomach clean. “I won’t make a production of it.”

He let the nightshirt drop, and then folded the cloth with the soiled side inward. Approaching the bed, he pulled the covers away from her, only to stop and stare with an arrested expression. “You are lovely,” he murmured finally, kneeling on the mattress and pressing the cloth between her legs. “Rey, you’re exquisite.”

Overcome and aroused and sticky, yes. Exquisite was a word Rey hadn’t even considered. “I…”

“Hmm?” He used a clean corner to wipe her wrist before tossing the cloth into the small laundry basket, and then rejoined her under the covers. “What is it?”

Useless to argue with him, Rey decided. Let him think her exquisite if he liked. “Blow out the candle.”

Ben seemed to catch at least a glimmer of her train of thought, because after the room was plunged into darkness he pulled her close, lips pressed to her hair. “Exquisite,” he murmured firmly. “And sweet. And more powerful than you know.”

“Ben.”

“And a joy to hold.” His bare legs tangled with hers. “Go to sleep, love.”

And she did, eventually. 

It was, perhaps, the first order in her life that was a pleasure to obey.

\- - - 

Leia placed the jar of tea on the table in front of her so carefully, so delicately, that the move couldn’t possibly be construed as an accusation. A question, perhaps. A query. No matter the intent, Rey- alone, still eating toast after Ben had left to feed and care for Falcon- blushed fiercely. 

“We didn’t have time to discuss this before you left,” Leia said, taking a seat across the table. “That was my fault; I know better. This-”

She laid a hand gently on the jar, holding Rey’s gaze with an expression that was almost- almost- amused. “-this is safe to drink everyday that you aren’t bleeding, though it isn’t foolproof.”

Rey cleared her throat, feeling the abrasive scrape of toast crumbs clinging stubbornly to delicate tissue. “There hasn’t been a… a need, yet.”

Leia looked horribly as if she were repressing an _I know._ “I began learning this trade as a girl,” she said, pushing the jar to the side, closer to the still-fresh roses. “My mother approved- she had a great deal of respect for the castle midwife, who had saved her life in childbed- and I found the work fascinating. I’ve delivered babes to women who waited for their husbands and women who didn’t; women who tried long and hard for a child and women who bore more than was healthy.” She paused briefly, expression understanding. “I promise that I will never give you anything that contradicts your wishes.”

Rey clasped her hands tightly on her lap, releasing a slow breath. “Ben- and Han, and Chewie- they want…”

“To take back the throne,” Leia finished when she faltered. “I understand.”

“I don’t have the training for that.” Rey mumbled the words, eyes on her plate. “I’m not… queenly.”

Leia laughed quietly, a little wryly. “Rey, I have met so many- _so_ many- royals whose only qualification for ruling was birth. I don’t say that to disregard your concern; it’s merely a statement of fact. It’s very true that a crown comes with a great deal of responsibility and sacrifice. Still.” She shrugged, the gesture not at all dismissive. “What makes a queen is not how well she dances or how prettily she wears a crown. Statecraft can be learned. Tenacity and empathy help, and you have plenty of both.” A brief pause. “But… but a coup on this scale would be quite the undertaking.”

“So was finding Ben,” Rey offered carefully, and received a quick smile in reply. 

“True enough. But breaking a curse and stealing away with one man is small in comparison to taking back an entire kingdom.” Leia sighed, crossing her arms on the table. “I would be the first to admit that many, many odd things have happened in my family, but even I can’t think of a way for a handful of people and the odd ghost to storm a well-protected castle and kill a king. At best it would be a slow groundswell of a crusade, taking years. I just-”

She broke off, looking away from Rey with an expression that briefly showed every bit of sorrow and weariness she felt- and then her features smoothed, and she was composed once more. “I want to let the matter rest until spring. I still have hope that Han will- will swagger in the door the way he always does.” Leia wouldn’t look Rey in the eye, an indication that her composure was a tenuous, fragile thing. “And trying to wage a campaign in the winter would be foolish, in any case.”

No mention of Leia’s own magic, of what she might feel from the land. _It’s an ache in my chest,_ Ben had said. Rey doubted that Leia felt anything less- but if Leia didn’t want to volunteer the information, it seemed cruel to press her at that particular moment. “Did Han ever talk to you about this?” she asked instead, and Leia huffed a laugh.

“Occasionally. Teasingly. Usually when we were drunk.” She smirked. “I’m not surprised, though. This plan is very Han. The man thrives on slapdash schemes that somehow turn aright at the last moment.”

Rey munched on a bite of now-cold toast in the silence that followed, unsure how best to respond. Leia solved the problem for her. “If anything does happen, it wouldn’t be tomorrow.” She reached across the table, covering Rey’s hand with her own. “I want you to remember that. Nothing may ever change. We could still be here ten years from now, listening to my father’s ghost wail in the night, and I would hate it if you delayed your own happiness because the specter of a crown you may never have to wear hovered over you.” 

Her tone wasn’t coaxing or pressing, but simply that of facts laid out plainly- and then she smiled a little self-deprecatingly and added, “And I didn’t say all of that solely because I would love to see the two of you married and having children of your own. Your caution is entirely reasonable, Rey. I want you to be happy and comfortable, not sacrificing your well-being in an attempt to please either Ben or me.”

Tears stung Rey’s eyes. “Thank you. I- I wish my mother had been like you.”

Leia’s smile saddened, and she lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “You have met me on the other side of a reckoning, dearheart. You might not have liked me quite as much ten years ago… but I would be honored if you allowed me to keep calling you ‘daughter’.”

Mother, daughter- words that were no longer quite as sharp as they once had been. Rey had the sense that time would only continue to wear away at the edges, tumbling them smooth like rocks in a swift-moving current. “I would like that.”

“Good.” Leia squeezed her hand, blinking away tears of her own. “And now I must apologize, I’m afraid. On any other day I would encourage both of you to rest and enjoy being back home, but you managed to end your journey just in time for a wedding.”

It took a moment for the import of the words to truly sink in, but when they did Rey could only laugh. “It _isn’t._ ”

“Midwinter. You tried your best to avoid it, my dear, but fate had other plans. Of course,” she added dryly, “if I’m putting the pieces together correctly, you thought the groom was someone else entirely.”

“I did,” Rey admitted with a blush, shoulders still shaking. “Oh, _stars._ ”

“Well, resign yourself to putting on a pretty dress and joining the village for some well-earned merriment.” Leia chuckled. “Perhaps even a little dancing. Ben is a good dancer, as I recall.”

Leia stood, bustling away to her clothes chest. “I hope these fit him,” she said as she began pulling out various items. “Or well enough, at least. Han… Han always leaves his nice things here. Insists on dressing like a scoundrel on the road.” A bittersweet smile played over her lips as she held up a white shirt, one made of cloth so finely woven it had likely been made for Han the king as opposed to Han the outlaw. “Why don’t you wear the dark red dress? I’ll braid your hair.”

“Actually,” Rey replied slowly, fingers tracing the stopper of the tea jar, “Ben asked to braid my hair.”

Leia’s expression began to look far more sweet than bitter. “He used to practice on me, when he was a boy,” she commented, draping the shirt over one arm. “I think he’ll do well with you.” 

And- before washing up, before dressing in the delicately embroidered gown- Rey made a cup of tea. 

It was better, she decided, to be prepared. 

Just in case.


	19. thought

“Hold still.” 

The words were a little muffled, spoken as they were around the bone pins Ben held between his lips. Rey did her best not to move, though the feel of his fingertips brushing over the sensitive skin behind one ear made her want to lean into his hand. 

“Rey has lovely hair, doesn’t she?” Leia commented, a note of mischief in her voice as she pinned up her own braids. “And you don’t seem to have lost your touch, Ben.”

Ben only hummed distractedly in reply, seemingly just as focused on twining strands of Rey’s hair as he had been on fondling her the evening before. 

_Don’t think about that,_ Rey thought as her cheeks heated with a blush. _Think about anything else, but not that._

He anchored a braid with a pin, murmuring belatedly, “She has beautiful hair.”

The thread of admiring approval in his voice only made her blush all the more, and it was at least in part because Rey actually agreed. She _did_ have nice hair, now- healthier than it had ever been, and falling halfway down her back. It was an odd thing, to develop a tentative vanity at this point in her life, but even so the knowledge was… pleasing.

And Ben had seemed to enjoy her hair down the night before. He had said so, had praised the way it draped over his arm and chest when her face had been hidden from him. _I want to see it spread over my pillow, Rey, when I’m inside of you. Swirling around your shoulders, spilling over your bare breasts as you ride me._

She still wasn’t sure how long she would allow it to grow, but his enthusiasm certainly tempted her to let it fall to her waist, as impractical as that would be.

He tucked the last pin into her hair, ending with a final caress of his knuckles against the back of her neck. “It’s been a long time since I attended a wedding.” Ben circled around her chair, stopping in front of her to examine his creation. “How lucky we arrived in time for this one, especially as it was supposed to be my own.”

Rey stood, her blush heightening at his teasing smile and Leia’s laugh. “You weren’t exactly going out of your way to make things clear, at that point.”

“True enough.” Ben smoothed a wayward strand back, and then closed his hands around her waist. “Thank you,” he murmured in her ear, not seeming to care that his mother was only half a room away. 

“I should be thanking you, I think,” Rey replied softly, wishing- for perhaps the first time in her life- that a mirror was available. She reached up, barely touching the braids for fear of mussing them. “You’re better at arranging my hair than I am.”

He pulled her into an embrace, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “My mother taught me well,” he said at more normal volume. “I see you haven’t lost your talent for embroidery, Mother,” he added, skimming his fingertips over the band of vines and flowers at her neckline. 

“I knew Rey would make it lovely,” Leia said in a warm voice, moving closer to them. “Don’t blush, Rey- and Ben, step back so that I can take a look at your handiwork. You’ll have plenty of time to sneak kisses later.”

“I didn’t even get to that part,” Ben said dryly, but released Rey all the same. 

Leia smiled as she examined Rey’s hair, gaze a little distant. “Your father used to braid my hair like this,” she said after a moment, tracing a looped plait. “You remembered.”

“It was the first style I thought of.”

“Do you mind?” Leia asked her. “This particular pattern is a little old-fashioned- Han learned it when he was a child.”

“I don’t,” Rey assured her, now wishing even more for a reflective surface. “It… it makes me feel like I’m a part of something.”

Leia pressed a kiss against her cheek. “And so you are. Thank you, Ben. Now-”

She stepped back, examining them both with a critical eye. “-time to face the wolves, I think.” Leia gave her son a wry smile. “I’ve done my best to unpoison the well locally, as it were, but a few smiles and kind words wouldn’t go amiss.”

“I was hoping to hide behind Rey, actually,” Ben responded with a teasing air, though the words had a ring of truth to them. “Are you sure I should go? I would hate to… to disrupt the festivities.”

“I am. You treat Rey so gently. Let them see that.” One corner of her mouth twitched upward. “At the very least it will give Poe pause, because he had mentioned to me the possibility of courting her- stop bristling, Ben, that won’t help anything.”

Ben looked distinctly grumpy, but all he did was mutter, “If anyone asks, I braided her hair.”

And- strangely- that bit of possessiveness didn’t bother her. If he had yelled and threatened, that would have been a problem, but Ben standing with his shoulders hunched a little inward, clearly trying not to make a fuss- that was almost endearing. She wanted to kiss him for it, so much so that her surprise over Poe’s apparent intentions was almost overshadowed. Had he ever paid her special attention, before? Rey honestly couldn’t remember.

“Darling,” Leia said with a quiet laugh, “I intend to pass that information around. ‘Doesn’t Rey’s hair look lovely?’, I’ll say. ‘Ben did such a wonderful job.’”

He didn’t relax completely until Rey stepped closer, taking his hand. “If you think my head could be turned at this point,” she said as evenly as possible, “then you haven’t been paying attention.”

Ben swayed a little closer, smile soft. “Just like that,” Leia said with satisfaction. “Help Rey with her cloak, dear. It’s time we braved the cold.”

She turned her back as Ben draped warm gray wool around Rey’s shoulders, giving them a brief moment of illusory privacy. Ben continued to smile softly at Rey as he fastened the cloak at her throat, and then said smile turned wicked as he bent toward her. “I’m going to love you so well tonight,” he breathed into her ear, the words barely audible under the noise of Leia jerking open the door with more force than was necessary. “After _I_ take down your hair.”

Rey was fairly certain how that scenario would end, and decided that drinking a cup of tea had been a very, very good idea.

\- - -

The village threshing barn also served as a meeting hall, when not in use. Rey had attended one dance there, not too long after her illness. She had spent most of it sitting by the sidelines, still in the process of regaining her strength, but she had laughed her way through a few dances as overly enthusiastic partners had done their best to swing her off her feet. 

“I think I did dream of this,” Ben murmured as they stepped inside. “I have vague memories of my mother here.”

She looked up at him, happy for a distraction. He had tucked her arm through his during their short walk, and under her hand his forearm shook, just a little. “The magic you share, perhaps,” she murmured in return, trying not to tense as the noise level of the room dropped at their arrival. “Or the familial bond.”

“Maybe.” He ducked his head closer to hers. “Will you dance with me?”

“Yes, though I don’t really know how.” Rey offered up a crooked smile. “Last time I mostly stumbled through the steps.”

She hadn’t really cared, then. She had still been muddling through subpar knitting, sewing, cooking- compared to what she had seen as useful skills, her two left feet had been nothing. Now, though… it would be nice to impress. Just a little. 

His reply was forestalled by a wave of murmurs from the other side of the room, which reached its height at nearly the same moment Rose Tyco swept up in front of them. Her braids were almost as intricate as the tangled vines and flowers embroidered on her dress, and in her hair was tucked a single pink rose. 

“Be welcome,” she said in a tone so firm it was almost at odds with the words. She held out her hands to Ben, palms upward. “You will always have bread and salt at my table.”

The moment seemed to encompass the entire room, as if everyone in sight held their breath. Rey looked sharply at Rose, seeing in her eyes steely determination. Cautiously Ben extended his hands. “And you at mine,” he answered, clasping hands with her, and though Rey had never heard the words before she recognized a traditional litany when she heard one. “May you have many years of health and happiness.”

Rey glanced briefly toward Finn, who stood straight-backed nearby and watched his intended with a softness that complimented her steel. Whatever had happened the night before, whatever had been said between them, he looked ready to stand behind her- and then he did, stepping up just before Ben released Rose’s hands. “My lord.”

His tone was a little stiff, and Rey amended her previous thought. Finn might be willing to cede to Rose’s judgment, but there was still hesitation there. 

“Hardly a lord, at the moment,” Ben replied in a low voice. “Thank you for your welcome, mistress.”

“And thank you for the gift of my namesake.” Rose twitched her skirts straight, nodding to Leia. “Flowers in winter- good luck, I think.”

Slowly, Ben smiled, albeit slightly. “The luck has been all mine,” he said as he tucked Rey’s arm back in the crook of his elbow. “It suits you.”

The crowd settled more easily when Finn drew his bride up to the front of the room, stopping under an arch of ivy. “One day at a time,” Leia murmured before following them to officiate.

 _One day at a time,_ Rey’s mind echoed as Leia bound Rose and Finn’s hands with an embroidered ribbon, speaking what sounded like traditional words with a smile. She allowed herself a lingering moment to imagine herself standing in front of Ben, a similar ribbon twined around their hands. 

Her magic, which had lain quiet since their arrival, shifted within her. Unsettled, Rey held her breath, struck with the sudden fear that the barn would catch on fire, or the arch would fall onto the bridal party’s heads… but absolutely nothing seemed to happen. She began to relax.

_-lovely, my-_

Rey’s head jerked up. That thought- that voice- had not been hers. 

Ben met her gaze, expression turning concerned at the sight of her wide eyes. 

Tentatively, she thought, _Ben?_

A flicker of confusion crossed his face. _Rey?_

Her mind was her own. Her mind was an island, a universe entirely separate- but now there was a bridge, it seemed, or a door, though-

She instinctively strangled the connection to silence, shutting away her sense of _Ben,_ and in response he winced. 

_Keep calm._ She told herself, panicking. _Don’t make a noise, don’t frown, don’t disturb the wedding. You did this, and you can fix it._

One slow deep breath, and then another. Ben watched her carefully, but there wasn’t even a hint of anger on his face- nothing negative at all, that she could see. His brows were slightly drawn together, expression almost that of someone faced with an intriguing intellectual problem.

At the front of the room Rose was smiling luminously as Finn spoke. Rey carefully, carefully, released her hold on the connection. _I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, I didn’t even ask the magic to do that._

 _I know._ Ben sounded very composed as his hand closed gently over her own. _Your mind is like velvet._

That was not what she had expected him to say, and the surprise distracted her from the panic. Rey shook her head slightly, feeling the braided loop brush over her neck. _It is not._

His was. She couldn’t help but notice the tenor of Ben’s mind, now; he fairly purred, settling inside her like a contented cat. She had no doubt that when riled he would hiss and spit like any feral tom, but at that moment he was all sleek whiskers and neatly curled tail. 

_Some lightning there. Appropriate._ His thumb stroked over her knuckles, making several passes. 

“-for all tomorrows,” Rose was saying, slipping a ring onto Finn’s free hand. “May you be my shield and my wine, as I am yours.”

 _My shelter in times of trouble,_ Ben seemed to recite in time, the thought a whisper. _The bread that strengthens my body, and the roses that feed my soul._

A kiss sealed vows she had scarcely paid attention to. With raised voices the crowd swung into motion, some moving to the tables along the walls to uncover food, others breaking into small, chattering groups, yet others gathering in one corner with instruments. A party was soon underway, Finn pulling Rose into his arms for a dance- and through it all, Rey kept her arm firmly tucked through Ben’s, feeling as if he had become the only solid point in the room.

When he did step away, she was almost absurdly relieved to find that she didn’t sink through the floor. “This was my first wedding,” Rey admitted quietly when he returned, accepting the mug of mulled wine he offered. “Ever, actually.”

First wedding, first bout of telepathy. Rey choked back a nervous laugh. She had to stay, and she had to act outwardly normal, and by the stars she would. 

“And you had to deal with my thoughts the entire time,” he murmured back. His errand had left him with only a facade of calm, gaze skittering around the room as if trying to keep tabs on those he found most worrisome- and there were, she saw, several people who glared rather than stared. “My apologies.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Her magic had left them in this quandary, not his. Like the wild thing it was, it had answered her moment of intense longing with spectral ribbons rather than tangible ones. 

He took a sip of his own wine, eyes settling on Rey as he considered her silently. “Until you’re comfortable, shut the door.” One shoulder lifted in a barely visible shrug. “I won’t be offended. Just… just let me in, if you need me.”

Taking him at his word, she shut him out. They were beset on all sides by distractions and inquiring eyes, but her thoughts were solely her own, once again. “Well?”

“I see my lovely Rey.” He took her free hand in his, lifting it to press a kiss to her fingertips. “Who looks in need of some food- and I’ll admit, after years without I am very tempted by the sight of a well-laid table.”

She allowed him to lead her away, and she allowed herself to set the knowledge of their newfound connection aside (the wine helped, and the music, and Ben insisting on feeding her the best bits from his own plate with a teasing, coaxing air). A handful of people approached them cautiously as they ate, with greetings and stilted courtesies. Kaydel, her blonde hair rippling abundantly down her back, smiled shyly at Ben with clear appreciation in her eyes.

“If you think my head could be turned at this point,” Ben murmured after Kaydel had been pulled onto the dance floor by Paige, echoing Rey’s own words, “then you haven’t been paying attention.”

Rey allowed a brief laugh to slip out, the wine dulling the edges of her spurt of jealousy. “Fair, _my lord_.”

He smirked, setting aside his plate as the music shifted to something slow and sweet. “Come dance with me then, my lady.”

She had been teasing. He was in all earnest, smirk aside- and when he pulled her to her feet, his hand settled low on her back, comforting and enticing all at once. 

“I don’t know this dance,” she whispered, catching sight of couples pairing off with steps and figures that looked distinctly courtly.

“I’ll teach you.” Ben placed her left hand on his shoulder, his right hand still secure at her back. “This has always been my mother’s favorite,” he noted as he took her other hand in his. “You’ll have many opportunities to practice.”

Compared to the rest of the room they moved at half-time. “You should be dancing with her, then,” Rey replied, mouth dry. The intimacy between them at that moment felt similar to what they had shared in bed the night before, and there was no one reason. The intensity of his gaze, the knowledge that the same bed waited for them after darkness fell, the remembrance of how his mind had felt- and the door slipped open, just a little. 

_-my storm, spread underneath me-_

“She has a partner,” Ben was saying. “Your other suitor is doing a fine job of it.”

 _You’re taking this very well,_ Rey thought in his direction, aware that her cheeks were red from that glimpse of his reverie.

 _We’ve danced in dreams. I followed you unseen across most of the kingdom. We took shelter in a cabin overgrown with magical roses._ Confidently he twirled her under one arm, the move so smoothly done she barely misstepped. _What is speaking mind to mind, after all that?_

“You are,” she muttered, only to stop, shutting her mouth. The only word that came to mind was _mine._

He looked quizzical, in an amused kind of way. Apparently that thought hadn’t made its way to him. “Impudent? Annoyingly perceptive?”

“Right,” she settled on, letting him pull her a little closer. “And I want… I want pie.”

“Then you’ll have it.” 

“And you’ll dance with your mother.”

He smiled softly. “I will.”

They whirled around the room, keeping to the outskirts of the dancing crowd. Most smiled, though a few still frowned in their direction.

Rey focused on Ben, and on her feet, and resolved to put that particular problem away for another day.

\- - -

Ben’s mouth closed on hers the moment their bedroom door shut, the arm around her back tugging her up to her toes. He tasted of mulled wine, sweet and heady enough to turn her already tired limbs languid. “Rey,” he murmured against her lips, sounding as if he had something to say, only to catch her in a second kiss before trailing a series of them down her neck to the crook of her shoulder. 

A sleepy giggle escaped her at the tickle of his lips against her skin, at the way his fingers tugged at the lacing up the sides of her dress. His thoughts trickled through, just as hers likely passed to him. “You seem to be in a hurry.”

“Eager.” Still, he pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. “Are you all right?”

No, and yes. The haze of desire she had been feeling for most of the afternoon slipped away, leaving only sober honesty. “I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I can.”

And- shamefully- she wasn’t quite sure that she wanted to. Even with the connection shut, there was a slight sense of _Ben_ that lingered, comforting in its constancy. And that desire, she worried, felt-

Ben seemed to catch a little of what she was thinking, because he raised a brow and said, “Unfair? I don’t feel toyed with, Rey, or used.”

She paused, searching for a way to carefully phrase the scenario that had been slowly coalescing for most of the day. “The connection… if you have to marry someone else…”

He sighed, hands dropping away. “Yes, of course. Because I’m clearly going to change my mind and make a marital alliance with Hapes at any moment.” Ben began to undress, expression unreadable. “Stars know Hapes always seems to have princesses aplenty for the taking.”

He had spoken without malice, but she still felt inexplicably wounded- and knew, instinctively, that he felt much the same. “Old, old fears,” she muttered when she could again speak. “As much as I wish they would, they’ll never just disappear in a puff of smoke.”

“I know.” Ben sat on the edge of the bed, wearing only his shirt and trousers. “I _know,_ Rey. I’ll- I’ll show you.”

He held out his hands, and- bracing herself- she took them.

_A swirl of shadows and mutters, faces she had never seen wearing fearful glares that raked like thorns across her skin. Monster, they seemed to say. Monster, came an echo in Ben’s voice, younger and just as fearful. Boots wearing thin, a desperate longing for home, on the knife’s edge of tears but trying not to cry in front of her grim-faced uncle, who surely believed her as much of a monster as everyone else-_

Rey snatched her hands back. Her entire body shook, tears rolling down her cheeks and a suffocating weight in her throat. “You still think that of yourself?” she whispered, voice cracking. “ _Ben._ ”

“They’ll never just disappear in a puff of smoke,” he repeated levelly in reply, but there was a strain underlying the words. “I’ve seen your memories, Rey. If I could confront everyone who ever called you nothing I would. They were blind- blind and cruel- because you are _everything._ ” At that his voice did shake. “Especially to me.”

She slipped her fingers into his hair, holding him still with a light touch. “You aren’t a monster. You are the furthest thing from a monster, Ben.”

He turned his head a little, just enough to kiss the inside of her wrist. “Sweetheart.”

A flash of his thoughts slipped through: her, beautiful and determined, fierce and beloved, hair twined into intricate braids. A vision of herself she barely recognized- and yet, she did. No figure of perfection, that vision; her quirks and obstinate nature were just as evident as the softness Ben seemed to tease out of her.

Certainty settled, bone-deep, and with it a calm _no more of this cowardice_ that came from her mind alone. “Ben.”

He had his eyes closed, his head still inclined into one of her hands. “Hmm?”

“One day- one day we’re going to have some exceptionally stubborn children.”

A flare of hope from his mind, almost painful in its longing. “Are we?” he asked softly, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. 

“Yes.” She could almost see them, could almost hear their laughter. “Maybe they’ll herd sheep, or maybe they’ll study diplomacy in a castle, or maybe they’ll grow up in an entirely different kingdom, but they’re going to exist. And they’re going to love you.”

For a long moment he simply stared at her. 

And then he pulled her down onto his lap, arms wrapping around her, and one or both of them thought _yes please mine be mine i love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note concerning the layout of the village- I see the forest as being very large, large enough that giving the village enough cleared land to grow vegetables/grain/hay wouldn't be an issue. Ghost Anakin probably did some math about harvest yields. 
> 
> Also, I have no intention of introducing a love triangle with either Kaydel or Poe this late in the game; it just seems reasonable that if someone like Rey and/or Ben showed up in a small village, anyone looking for companionship would indeed take notice!


	20. practice

Ben had drawn her down onto the bed, and there he had stopped. No tugging at her laces, no hiking up her skirts; instead, he simply lay still, arms wrapped firmly around her and his nose nuzzling her hair. 

“It’s been a long day,” Rey commented softly after a few minutes, perfectly happy to stay exactly as they were. “And not an easy one for you.”

“I admit that the word ‘monster’ drifted through my mind a few times.”

“I never heard it.” And if she had, and had realized the reason why… she wasn't quite sure what she would have done. 

“Your thoughts are turning a little bloodthirsty,” Ben murmured with a quiet chuckle. “It’s for the best. Snarling during wedding feasts is generally frowned upon, even in country villages.” His hand skimmed up and down her back, each pass slow and soothing. “I don’t think either of us can entirely read the other’s mind; that would be maddening. I can see little flashes of your thoughts concerning me, and sense heightened emotion, but that seems to be it.” He paused thoughtfully. “At least when it comes to incidental readings, that is. I can certainly hear you when you speak intentionally, and we can share memory easily enough.”

“You have before,” Rey pointed out. “When you gave me your dagger training.”

“True. Would it make you feel better if your magic simply opened a door wider, rather than creating one out of nothing?”

“Yes,” she decided after a moment of consideration. “That feels less… less out of my control. It feels friendlier, in a way, if this is just a continuation of the bond we shared during the curse.” She snuggled into him, a little annoyed by the way her skirts were twisted around her legs, and then asked, “Can you block me?”

In answer the connection slammed shut, and Rey immediately understood why Ben had winced the first time she attempted such a move. It _hurt_ in the oddest way: free of real pain, but the shock of sudden absence was almost bone-shaking. 

“Stars,” he muttered apologetically, popping back into her mind as suddenly as he had left. “I didn’t mean to shove you out like that.”

“Something else to practice.” Rey took in a deep breath, and continued in an equally apologetic tone. “Though I do think we should close the connection when we aren’t together. I don’t want you to accidentally bury an ax in your leg if some wild thought of mine distracts you.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right.” He began to pluck pins from her hair by feel alone, voice turning low and teasing. “I don’t need to be fighting off your amorous thoughts in the middle of daily chores.”

Rey sputtered, the sound half a laugh. “I? _I?_ It wasn’t my mind that came up with a very lovingly imagined vision of my breasts.” And hadn’t that been an interesting moment, congratulating a beaming Rose only to break into a coughing fit over absolutely nothing. “They’re not symmetrical,” she added with a hint of wickedness. “And they’re smaller than you think.”

“A perfect mouthful, then,” he replied with equanimity, though in her mind she could feel his amusement. “I look forward to acquainting myself with them.”

Her hair was loosening with each pin pulled free, until there finally came the moment when he sat up, leaning over to spill the small pile of hair pins onto the bedside table. Through it all Rey pondered his words, practicing keeping her thoughts below his notice. 

Finally, she said, “You could tonight.”

Ben hovered over her, expression soft and almost wistful in candlelight. “May I?”

“Well, in a way it was supposed to be your wedding night.”

Not hers, which had stung- but she had been wrong, and here he was with her. And she was going to keep him, no matter how many crowns he balanced on her head. 

“You don’t even have to take the one,” he promised. “Though there was one in the treasury… my grandmother’s favorite…”

Ben feathered kisses over her brow and down the bridge of her nose, murmuring all the while. “Gold and rubies. Bold, for its small size.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Like you, my storm.”

“I’m not that small. I’m rather tall for a woman, especially here.”

And she had never trusted men who loomed over her, at least not until Alderaan. Ben, Han, Chewie- all members of a rather select group.

He grimaced, his amorous mood ebbing, and settled on his side next to her instead of holding himself above. “Bad phrasing on my part. I apologize.”

“Well.” Rey held his gaze, feeling a hint of his inner castigations, his remembrance of how much she had hated _little one._ “I am small, compared to you. And I would hate to wear a crown meant for a person your size; what a headache it would be.”

“I’m forgiven, then?”

“You called me small, I inferred you would run off with the first princess who fluttered her eyelashes… there’s fault on both sides.”

He laughed quietly. “Shall we practice magic in the woods, tomorrow?”

Rey sighed a little, turning onto her side to face him. “That would be for the best. I still feel like I’m trying to harness a wild horse- and today it responded after only a thought.”

“What were you thinking?” he asked curiously, curving an arm over her waist. 

She felt heat flood her cheeks, but answered honestly. “About marriage.”

“ _Will_ you marry me, sweetheart?”

Rey wasn’t surprised by the question, but her breath caught in her throat nonetheless. “I believe I did promise you children.”

“Children have a way of coming, with or without marriage,” he pointed out, amusement playing over his face. “That’s not exactly a guarantee.”

She couldn’t exactly put her feelings into words, so she pushed them gracelessly at him instead: ribbons around their hands and his body blanketing hers and a hint of bitter among all the sweet. “Your father would want to see us married,” Rey managed. “Chewie, too. I hate… I hate not knowing.”

For a moment he wasn’t entirely with her, expression and thoughts sorrowful. “Perhaps,” he said, “we wait for the spring.”

It made as much sense as Leia’s similar suggestion. Spring, a time for new beginnings- staying or leaving, wedding and bedding. 

Though. 

“If we wait, will you be wanting to sleep elsewhere?”

Ben gave her a startled look, focusing on her once more, then grinned. “I don’t have that much restraint.” 

She could feel his thoughts more than see them, heat pooling between her legs and running along her veins. Rey bit her bottom lip, resisting the urge to squirm, and then admitted, “I started drinking your mother’s tea, you know.”

“I had a feeling you might,” he replied, unruffled.

“You don’t mind?”

“No.” Ben began carefully undoing her loosened braids, appearing not at all discomforted despite the awkward angle he had to hold his hand and arm. “Better to wait, considering our current circumstances- and ideally the timing would be your decision. I have no desire to make you endure childbed on a yearly basis.”

“A relief, I’ll admit.” Rey allowed her eyes to slip close as he continued his ministrations. The way his fingers combed gently through her hair even as her skin ached to be touched was making her feel impatient. “Ben, help me out of these clothes.”

“You don’t want ten children following at your heels?” he teased as he drew her out of bed. “I can’t imagine why.”

“I told you they would be stubborn; we would be hopelessly outnumbered.” 

He undid her laces efficiently, as if he had been studying them for most of the day, and soon lifted the loosened dress over her head. “But so pretty, if they take after you,” he murmured. “We would have to build a home the size of a barn to hold them all, if we stay here.”

“I’m hoping they’ll take after you.” He showed no inclination to remove her shift- or not yet, at least, not when the thoughts she could read all revolved around heightening her arousal with light caresses through the cloth while he dedicated himself to leaving a mark at the crook of her neck. In no mood to delay Rey grabbed her shift and pulled it off, standing clad in only a blush and stockings secured with ribbons. “Resign yourself to a wife who finds you very handsome.”

Ben didn’t seem to register her words, looking spellbound as his gaze drifted down her body. His mind was impenetrable, almost the equivalent of static- and then he dropped to his knees, raising a hand to tug at the end of one ribbon. The crooked bow came undone easily, the stocking immediately beginning to slip down. 

“What a mark to leave on such lovely skin,” he breathed, rubbing his thumb lightly over the reddish line on her thigh. His gaze flicked a little higher, her blush deepening as his thoughts grew clearer. “Luckily it’s the longest night of the year.” Ben drew the stocking down her leg, and she placed a hand on his shoulder before lifting her foot to allow him to slip it off entirely. He moved on to the second. “We have-”

Deep in the woods, echoing through the trees, the ghost began to weep. They both froze, Ben’s hand clutching the drooping stocking currently on level with her calf. 

“Damn my ancestor’s timing,” he said after a moment, thoughts and tone rueful.

“He might not be able to control it,” Rey offered, feeling caught between arousal and the spine-prickling shudder the wailing instinctively raised in her. “Poor Rose and Finn.”

Ben huffed a laugh, finishing his work. “I’m tempted to ransack my mother’s supplies for beeswax earplugs, but I want to hear you, especially our first time.” On that declaration he kissed the bare skin of her belly, leaving her stockings and ribbon garters lying in a pile on the floor. “Please tell me you have a very thick nightgown in that chest, sweetheart.”

Rey snorted, beginning to giggle as the sheer ridiculousness of the situation overtook her. “I do.”

“Because I want…”

He didn’t need to finish speaking. She was overwhelmed by the image of his dark head between her thighs, of her hand twined in his hair to keep him close. Only the ghost’s sorrow kept her from drawing him forward then and there. 

“I’m going to fetch it,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. “Maybe… maybe tomorrow?”

“That would be-”

Ben paused, taking in a deep breath. “-that would be lovely.”

“I love you.”

Some of his frustration melted away, and he brushed a second kiss over her skin. “And I, you.”

She donned her nightgown, and him his nightshirt, stripping without a second thought in front of her eyes. He really was beautiful, almost-

“I’m not,” he said mildly as he slipped into bed beside her. 

“You are.”

He settled on his side, looping an arm over her waist. “I’m-”

“Beautiful,” she interrupted stubbornly. 

“Rey-”

“Don’t argue with your betrothed.”

He hesitated, drawing her closer. “Rey.”

In the dark she curled into him, glad that she could, at the very least, have him this close. “What?”

“I love you.”

She didn’t think she would ever get tired of hearing those words, but the way he felt when saying them was a new wonder. “Thank you.”

Ben laughed a little, but mercifully didn’t tease her for the only words she could seem to say. “Sweetheart,” he said instead, “the pleasure is all mine.”

\- - -

The branch slipped from her mental grasp and dropped to the snow, breaking into pieces. 

“I should stop expecting it to behave,” Rey said dryly, staring at the bits of wood. “You’re a scholar, Ben. Surely you’ve read accounts of magicians actually controlling this kind of magic.”

“Yes,” he replied after a moment, in a way that was less than reassuring. “The problem is that most came into their magic early.”

A snippet of a memory, or a dream, flickered through her mind: _the magic in your blood is wild, and flared into being the moment you arrived._ “Of course.”

“They first showed signs at four, or five. They were taken-”

Rey lifted her hand, feeling a spike of something that was somewhere between anger and panic. “Pardon?”

Ben blinked, catching her emotions. His answer was bitter- would have been bitter, she sensed, even without the connection between them giving him a peek of her mindset, because he had his own experiences to consider. “The schools for magic, they’ve always taken their apprentices as early as possible-”

“Not _our_ children.” Rey tasted white-hot rage for a split-second, but tamped it down quickly when the bits of wood caught fire. “You weren’t taken from your parents.”

“It’s a different magic.” His jaw firmed, and he took one of her hands in his. “Rey, no one will take our children without our mutual consent. Even if they’re calling down lightning from the moment of birth.”

“And the others?” she pressed, remembering all too vividly her own childhood even as she acknowledged that her history was a far different situation. “Is it- is it _really_ necessary?”

“It depends on which texts you read. Some are in favor, some not- but all acknowledge that some families are not equipped to deal with a child who can burn down their home over a tantrum.”

Rey’s laugh was hollow, though she couldn’t deny the sense in his words. 

“If we are ever in a position to shape laws, Rey, I swear that the new schools will be different.” Ben bent toward her, voice low and gentle. “We’ll find a way to be kinder- we’ll create district schools for magic, instead of sending all those children to isolated manses on the kingdom outskirts.”

Rey stared down at his hands. She was a stranger here, still. She could barely contain her own magic, she could barely keep control of herself- and what if some other budding magician created a bond like she and Ben shared, but with a less appreciative partner? Would she be so accepting if an innocent was bound to someone who took advantage?

“You aren’t the villain in this story, Rey,” Ben murmured, drawing her closer. “We’ll find a solution. And you- you will keep practicing, and you will find your own control, and we’ll teach our children the same. Do you really feel any reluctance from me?”

“No,” she whispered, looking up into his eyes. “None.”

She met him in a soft, lingering kiss, allowing herself to be soothed by the tenderness of his thoughts. Her jagged uncertainties smoothed away, her failures recast in a kinder light- and when they separated, it took her a moment to notice the change in the little clearing. Where the pieces of wood had been were small saplings, pale and skeletal, their branches intertwined. 

“Was that me?” Rey asked finally, breaking their stunned silence. 

“I think it was.” Ben took a few steps forward, laying a gloved hand against one skinny trunk. “I could feel something from you during that kiss- something like blooming.”

Rey planted her hands on her hips as she examined her new creations. “Why is it I seem to do my best work while kissing?” she muttered, annoyed. 

Ben gave a startled laugh. “It does seem to be a technique suited to you and you alone.”

Finding herself suddenly more amused than irritated, she said “Perhaps I should be exploring this kind of magic more thoroughly.”

He raised a brow, his emotions uneasy in a way that gave her pause- and then he spoke, almost pleadingly. “Please don’t kiss Snoke as a means of magical combat.”

“With _you,_ Ben,” Rey explained, fighting back a laugh and a full-body cringe. “I do my best work while kissing _you._ I have no intention of going around and attacking our enemies with my mouth; what a horror that would be.”

A hint of a sheepish smile appeared on his face. “Ah. Well, that is true.”

Stepping up to him, Rey curved one hand around the back of his neck, gently pulling his head down a little. “Kiss me again,” she said, tone more a suggestion than a demand. “As an experiment, of course.”

His thoughts were rife with wicked amusement, but his answer was a grave “Far be it from me to discourage scholarly endeavors.”

That kiss- that hungry, deep kiss that left her shivering- seemed to have absolutely no magical effect on their surroundings.

So they tried it again, just in case.

And a third time, to be thorough. 

“Probably for the best,” Ben said afterward, his cheeks and earlobes flushed pink. “It would be very hard to kiss and guard one’s back at the same time.”

“It’s not exactly suited for the battlefield,” she agreed, feeling more in charity with the universe in general. “We should return to the village; I promised Leia I would help her with dinner.”

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” Ben took her hand as they walked, and for not the first time she noticed that he was shortening his strides for her. “The magic, not the kissing. I think we have the latter under control.”

_I love you._

A burst of warmth from his mind, and she could absolutely grow addicted to this, to him. _I love you, too._

\- - -

“Rey! Hold on.”

Repressing the urge to sigh, Rey stopped on the path to the well, waiting warily for Poe to catch up to her. 

“Welcome home,” he said with a smile as Beebee sniffed at her skirts. “We didn’t get a chance to talk, yesterday.”

“It was a busy day,” she replied blandly, resuming her trek. 

“And a wedding is not the best place for a private conversation,” he agreed, sending a ripple of alarm through her. “Rey-”

“Ben braids my hair,” she interrupted quickly, glad that she had taken the precaution to shut down the connection during afternoon chores. Ben’s reputation would only suffer further if he were spotted sprinting through the village, expression one of impending confrontation as he arrowed in on the source of her heightened emotions. “If that’s what you wanted to talk about.”

Poe’s grin was crooked and distinctly unamused. “If you had returned home alone, yes, but Leia has already made your connection very clear.”

“What, then?”

“Will he be staying?”

Rey stopped in her tracks, staring at Poe incredulously. “What?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, expression serious. “Rey, you must know that you’ve brought danger into our midst.”

She laughed sharply, turning away from him and increasing her pace. “You still believe in that false prophecy?” she spat. “Knowing what Snoke has done to the kingdom, to _Leia?_ ”

“The prophecy was rubbish,” he replied flatly. “Everyone knows that.”

“Yes, that explains why the entire village greeted him so pleasantly.”

“They’re scared, Rey. They’re scared of what will happen, now that the Queen and the heir are in one place. Do you think Snoke’s been blind to us, all these years? He’s known since the beginning that Leia took refuge in this forest.” Poe stepped in front of her, forcing Rey to a stop. “It was one thing for him to ignore her,” he said in a quiet, insistent voice. “One woman and a ragged company of farmers and artisans was no threat to him. Even Han’s travels were, at worst, an irritation. But Ben? Ben and Leia and _you,_ all together, present a serious problem.”

Her anger had drained away over the course of his speech, replaced by a kind of aching worry that resonated. She didn’t bother to refute his assertion that she herself was a danger; the past weeks had more than proven that she was and could be one. “Snoke won’t march on the forest,” Rey said instead, more to convince herself than him. “His soldiers are too superstitious.”

“In the face of possible insurrection? He can, and he will. Making an example of the first company that balks will force the others to fall in line.”

“The ghost and the magic will stop him.” 

“That isn’t in doubt,” Poe agreed. “But a magician like Snoke, up against the forest- we’ll be caught in between. Magical backlash doesn’t discriminate when it burns through an area; the battle for the border more than proved that.”

Feeling numb, Rey stepped to the side and walked around him. “I’ll present your concerns to Leia and Ben.”

“Rey-”

“I need to think, Poe.”

To her relief he said nothing more, instead whistling for Beebee and returning to the village. As Rey drew water, she mulled over his words- and remembered, suddenly, that Snoke had a means of tracking Ben. Even if he hadn’t known the exact location of the village before, he certainly did now.

“Fuck,” she muttered meaningfully, picking up her heavy burden for the walk back. “ _Fuck._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cockblocking, inadvertent or otherwise, is a venerable Skywalker tradition.


	21. balance

Leia did not flinch. She paled, but that was the extent of her external reaction to Rey’s news; setting aside the bread she had been slicing she wiped her hands briskly on her apron. “I’ve grown complacent,” she said grimly, pulling a wide dish with a raised rim from a cupboard. “I should have seen this coming, but…”

Her voice trailed off, and Rey knew her well enough to finish the sentence: but she had been happy and had been grieving all at once, and her heart had been too full for the space of less than two days to consider anything else. Ben, the connection once again open, seemed to be feeling much the same. 

“I shouldn’t have come,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I was only thinking-”

“That we would be safe here,” Rey interrupted, trying to keep her voice steady. “We had no choice _but_ to come to this forest, Ben. We barely made it inside as it was.”

He nodded, but didn’t seem to really be taking in her words. At the table Leia was pouring water into the dish, nearly to the rim. “Do you remember this spell, Ben?” Leia asked, voice calmer in the way of someone caught up in a well-known task. She hesitated, and then chose one of the still-fresh roses and tore the petals from the stem, scattering them over the water. “Not traditional,” she muttered, seemingly to herself, “but perhaps better.”

“I think I do,” Ben answered, approaching the table. He looked- and felt- uncertain. “It’s been a long time.”

“I know,” Leia said soothingly, holding out one hand to him. When he took it, their hands clasping over the floating petals, she said, “You feel it, though- the land.”

“Like a bone bruise,” he murmured, his voice ragged. “It aches. I dream of it, at night.”

“I know.” Leia gave him a small, sad smile, then looked to Rey. “Darling, come and watch. This isn’t a secret, exactly, but you’re about to join a select few.”

Rey drew closer, stopping only a few inches from the table. “Your magic?”

“Han told you? Good.” Leia released Ben’s hand, placing her fingertips on the rim of the dish. Across the table Ben did the same. “It’s not reserved for the royal family,” she said, almost absently. “But this kind of magic is rare, and does run true in my mother’s line. It’s part of the reason we held the throne for so long.”

In the bowl the petals shivered, and then began to melt- or spread, or divide, because there wasn’t a verb in Rey’s vocabulary that accurately described the action. One moment they were, and the next they were not, and the moment after that a miniature landscape tinted blush pink began to form: a rocky coast, mountain ranges, extensive forests and the plentiful dotting of villages and towns. In the north lay a city near the coast, larger and grander than the others. The map- it had to be a map, Rey thought, it could be nothing else- held its shape for a long moment, and then the color began to shift. Patches in a sickly green color bloomed over the landscape, ranging from small circles in and around villages to a deep, deep well of color consuming the capital city- and within the well, a spot of pure gold.

“The green represents enemy forces,” said Leia, tone calculating. “Enemy to us, that is. The gold is Snoke.”

Rey frowned, examining the map. “And we’re… here?” she guessed, pointing carefully toward a luxurious sprawl of woodland that consumed a significant portion of one side of the map. 

“We are.” Ben’s fingers trembled slightly, but he didn’t lift them away from the dish. “He’s still in Aldera.”

“Along with the bulk of his army.” One corner of Leia’s mouth raised in a humorless smile. “As he has been nearly every time I’ve used this spell since settling here. He’s either far too confident in the border’s abilities, or terrified for his own life, or both.”

“So he isn’t marching on us,” Rey said, the statement half a question. Other than a few freckles of green near the woods, their portion of the kingdom looked relatively uncontaminated. 

“Not yet.” Leia tilted her head slightly to the side, eyes still trained on her kingdom. “He may be biding his time. He has the advantage, after all- the army, the treasury, the throne. Just as I asked to wait till spring to decide, he might be waiting for the snow to melt and the ground to firm.”

“He doesn’t care about the soldiers,” Ben muttered, and Leia nodded. 

“No, he doesn’t care about their morale or well-being… but he is a skilled tactician.” With a sigh Leia lifted her hands. A moment later Ben did the same, and the landscape dissolved into torn, shredded rose petals on water. “He might be thinking of how much easier the army will march, or he might be waiting to see what we will do, or-”

She paused, and then laughed bitterly. “Or he might be considering his own comfort. If he plans to bring his magic to bear against the forest, he’ll have to come himself.”

They all considered each other in silence for a long moment, Rey accepting Ben’s hand when he held it out to her. 

“Stop looking so guilty,” she said at last. “I practically dragged you here, Ben.”

“You didn’t.”

“No,” Rey said gravely, feeling guilt herself, “I did. I didn’t know where else to go, and you… you would have followed me anywhere.”

“Neither of you are to blame for this.” Leia skirted the corner of the table, closing her hands over their clasped ones. “Save for trying to escape over the border, where else _would_ you go? You had a very small amount of time on your hands, and the forest was your closest refuge… and frankly, I’m selfishly glad you came here.” A tear slipped down one cheek. “Not very queenly of me, to think of my own happiness over everyone else’s well-being,” she said in a quiet, straightforward way. “But I am human.”

Leia kissed Rey’s cheek, and then Ben’s, pulling him down so that she could reach. “Sit,” she ordered, brushing away another tear as she moved toward the hearth. “We’ll eat. We’ll plan. And from now on, we repeat that spell once a day.”

When Rey could only stare after her, mouth dry, Ben murmured in her ear, “She’s right. Sit, sweetheart. Some food will make you feel better.”

She laughed a little, dropping into the chair he pulled out for her. “You’re right.” Rey was predictable, that way; not everything could be terrible if her stomach was full. 

A petal fell from one rose to the tabletop, and though there was no clock Rey seemed to hear the quiet tick of seconds passing in her ear. _I thought we would have time._

_We will._ Ben, who had taken his own seat, generously buttered a piece of bread and placed it on her plate. _I promise you, we will._

\- - -

They talked deep into the night, considering and discarding potential plans only to rehash the same material all over again. When they finally went to bed, Rey was far too weary to do more than clean her teeth and pull on a nightgown before crawling under the covers. Ben curled himself around her with a tired sigh, his body soon turning languid with sleep.

And yet sleep evaded Rey. Inside her magic seemed to claw and scratch, sparking at her nerves. She wanted to slip from Ben’s arms, wanted to sneak out into the night and run through the woods until the jittery feeling disappeared, but knew on some level that trying would do no good. 

Carefully, she eased the connection shut as Ben mumbled something from his dreams, his arm tightening around her. One of them, at least, would escape this night relatively well-rested. 

_Calm down,_ she scolded her magic. _This is no time to pitch a fit._

Like a small child, her magic almost seemed to sulk. It receded.

And Rey fell asleep. 

\- - -

_Someone led her by the hand through the dark._

_“Magicians,” a woman said on a sigh, and with that sigh came understanding. “So many of them insist on being vague. It becomes habit after a while, you know; they’re all afraid some apprentice will come along and steal their secrets.”_

_Rey stumbled over an unforeseen obstacle, but kept her feet. “Padmé.”_

_“The very same.” She sounded a little apologetic. “You’ll be able to see soon. I’m sorry- I really am sorry about all of this; you’ve already realized that being a heroine isn’t an enviable fate.”_

_Rey opened her mouth to protest the title, but Padmé continued before she could speak._

_“True heroines and heroes never think of themselves as such; the word doesn’t sit well with them. But you’ve crossed dimensions, traveled the length of a kingdom-”_

_Her voice turned dry. “-fought my misguided son. I thank you for staying your hand in that instance. And, of course, you saved my grandson from a curse.”_

_In the distance was a light, silvery-blue._

_“Why are you here?” Rey asked, and Padmé laughed._

_“Because after a life of diplomacy and heeding a council’s wisdom, I wanted to take a more direct route.”_

_In the growing light Rey could see the outline of tumbling curls and a flowing gown. “And Anakin won’t?”_

_“Anakin is bound by his own kind of curse,” Padmé answered quietly. “He’s not entirely his own person, not anymore- his last act made sure of that. How could he be, when parts of his soul are tied to the border and the forest? His autonomy is limited.”_

_“He gave us roses.”_

_“He gave me roses, too.” Padmé’s voice was wistful. “There- do you see?”_

_A tree- and beneath its branches, next to the trunk, a cage. Inside the cage, a beast. It was like no other animal Rey had seen before, somehow wildcat and wolf all at once, but she knew it instinctively for what it was. “Is that me?”_

_“In a sense.” Padmé turned her head, giving Rey her first good glimpse. Despite the delicacy of her features, she could see Ben in this woman’s face. “Your magic, and the cage you created for it.”_

_One paw slipped through a small, rough hole to claw at the lock- not a padlock, but a cheap, flimsy thing like she had seen on so many motel doors. The cage was the same battered metal fencing that had surrounded Plutt’s hideout, wound with lashings of barbed wire. The creature yowled plaintively, its voice eerie and yet entirely familiar. “You don’t live long in Jakku by acting recklessly,” Rey murmured, an ache building in her throat. “Controlling myself was the only power I had.”_

_Her will, in that moment, wavered, and the sides of the cage buckled._

_“But I have to have some control, don’t I?” Rey asked as she watched the creature shiver. “I can’t just let it lash out freely.”_

_“Control is different from domination.” Padmé slid her a sideways glance. “That was one of the first lessons I learned from my mother. My magic can’t be used to influence or entrance people, but if called the land will respond. It can be used for good- gently coaxing along crops, for instance- or for darker purposes. My daughter and my grandson could, if they liked, open the ground beneath an army and send them tumbling into a crevasse. They could ask the stones of the palace to collapse inward. They could call rain to stop a forest fire.”_

_“With no way to separate the innocent from the guilty,” Rey said slowly, thinking of how such power must have tempted Leia over the years._

_“Exactly. The soldiers conscripted under threat to their families would fall alongside the ones who simply enjoy killing. The rain might cause mudslides or a flood. Even pouring too much magic into the crops can go awry; draw too many nutrients from the soil one summer and face the potential for famine the next. All magic requires balance and care.”_

_Rey considered the beast again: its battered paws, the blood on its muzzle. She dropped Padmé’s hand. “I didn’t realize I was doing… this,” she said as she stepped forward. Large hazel eyes stared up at her as she stood over the cage, the light in them not angry or vengeful but pleading. Let me out, they seemed to say. I’m scared. I hurt. “I wish I had known.”_

_“You weren’t ready,” Padmé pointed out gently. “If I had shown you this too early…”_

_“I would have been too wary to do anything about it,” Rey finished, speaking more to herself than Padmé. “I would have insisted on clinging stubbornly to any shred of control I had left.”_

_Taking in a steadying breath, she turned the lock and opened the door. For the space of long seconds nothing happened- and then the beast tumbled out of the cage, landing gracelessly at Rey’s feet. It lifted its head, sniffing the air with intent, only to yawn and roll onto its back._

_And Rey- Rey felt relief. Not because the beast had stayed put, and not because it appeared perfectly calm outside of the cage- though both of those things were reasons for relief- but because something had shifted inside of Rey herself. The shoddy lock glinted up at her from the open door, and she thought: no more of you. This story is mine, now._

_“It won’t always be so easy,” Padmé said with quiet satisfaction. “But I think you’ll find it easier, at least.”_

_Rey knelt, sinking her fingers into plush, warm fur. “Thank you. Thank you so-”_

_But when she looked up, Padmé was gone, leaving only the scent of roses behind to mark that she had been there at all._

\- - -

Rey sat bolt upright, dragging in air as the dream fell away from her in shreds. Beside her Ben stirred, shaken awake. 

“Rey?”

The connection was wide open and she could feel his sleepy confusion, see the remnants of his own dreams. He had dreamed of her, heavy with child and curled up on his lap, her hair in elaborate braids. She had been smiling and glowing with health, and he had looked positively smitten.

“Could you really make crops grow?” 

For an extended moment he didn’t answer, though she could tell it was simply because his mind was taking longer to process than usual. “Yes?” he said finally, propping himself up on one elbow beside her. “It’s not that simple, though, it’s a delicate process-”

“So your grandmother said.”

“What?”

Rey laughed a little giddily in the dark. “Light.”

The candle at their bedside lit with one small, flickering touch of flame. Ben looked over his shoulder at her precise use of magic, then looked back at her, hair falling over his face. His gaze sharpened. “You feel… different,” he said, awe creeping into his voice. “Softer.”

“Is that how it feels to you?” 

“What does it feel like to you?”

She bit her lower lip. He wasn’t wrong, exactly, but-

“Balance.” Tenuous, but there nonetheless. Her magic stretched and settled with a not-unpleased grumble, seeming content to rest after so long spent battering at its cage. “I feel… I feel like less of a battleground, now.”

“Good.” Ben curved a hand over her thigh, and she caught a glimpse of his thoughts: _my love my storm my_. “Lie back down, sweetheart. It’s still the middle of the night.”

He didn’t sound like someone impatient to go back to sleep, and she- she was awake, and hungry, and feeling a kind of victorious relief. “Are you tired?” Rey asked, moving to straddle his lap, pushing lightly at his shoulders until he lay back. “I’m not.”

One corner of his mouth quirked upward as his hands settled on her hips. “I could help with that.”

“Because-”

She rocked purposefully against him, a smile appearing on her face when his eyes darkened. “-because it’s quiet, tonight, and we should really take advantage of this room for as long as we have it.”

“I agree,” Ben replied, voice low. 

Gathering handfuls of cloth, Rey pulled her nightgown over her head, tossing it behind her. In the cool of the room she shivered despite her arousal, flattening her hands over his chest. His eyes focused on her breasts. “You look cold.”

“It is winter.”

Carefully he tipped her onto her back, performing the maneuver slowly to give her plenty of time to protest and displaying a great deal of control in the process. “May I take off my nightshirt?”

“Please.”

He dragged it off, gaze meeting hers as he tossed it to the floor. “Rey.”

There was so much of him that she wanted to touch, to stroke, to taste, and he stared down at her with a look that devoured. Rey spread her legs with a smile and a blush, reaching out to caress his cheek. “Ben.”

He hovered over her, leaning his face into her hand. “I don’t think I’ll last long,” he admitted in a mutter, and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Let me take my time, before…”

“So you don’t want me to touch you?”

“Desperately.” He blushed himself, at that. “This time, let me touch you first. Please.”

When she nodded, he kissed her as sweetly and as reverently as he might at their wedding, his body settling over hers. _Rey,_ she thought she heard as his tongue slipped into her mouth. _Rey._

_Ben._ His skin against hers, his arousal so very close to where she wanted it. “Touch me,” she whispered as he kissed his way down her neck. “Please.”

In answer his lips closed around one nipple, a hand slipping up to attend to the other. _Perfect,_ she heard as his tongue flicked over the peak, and heard it again as she whimpered and ground her core against his stomach. “My darling storm,” he murmured, nipping at the undercurve of one breast. “I’m going to learn you so well.”

And that promise, in his words and tone and very mindset, left her gasping and trembling as his mouth and hands mapped her breasts. When she was nearly insensible he moved downward, stopping briefly to inspect the dip of her belly button before finding his ultimate destination- and it was odd, odd and wonderful all at once as his mouth enthusiastically explored a part of her body that had only known her fingers and his, and he was entirely lost to the task, mind all _mine my love my delicious storm my_ until she fell apart, biting down on a pillow to muffle her moan. 

And then he just felt and looked smug, but she supposed she could forgive him for that. 

“Was that in your books?” she asked as he made a second and more lingering inspection of her belly button with his tongue. 

“It was.” He licked a stripe up her belly and then nuzzled the side of his face against her skin. If she had been able to shiver after his attentions, she would have at the feel of his stubble against her stomach. “Did you like it?”

“You don’t need to ask.” Rey laughed breathlessly, stretching languorously underneath him. “You know I did.”

“I still want to hear you say it aloud.” Ben stayed where he was, cheek pressed to her belly and hands curled at her sides. “Sweetheart.”

There was amusement and awe alike in his voice, and she ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to untangle tangles she herself had created. “I love you,” she murmured. “You didn’t have to do that- you could have just taken me.”

“Do I look like one of those brigands you grew up with?” he asked, sounding only mildly offended- mildly, because he knew her, and had learned how her mind worked. “My darling enjoys herself before anything else.”

“And now you enjoy yourself.” She grabbed his arms and tugged him upward, realizing as he moved that she was not beyond a second wave of arousal. “Please.”

His lips brushed over hers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If we’re ever going to create those children you’ll have to fuck me, eventually.” She wriggled underneath him as he gave her an arrested look, clenching her thighs against his hips. “Please, Ben. Please.”

He blinked, blushing, one hand curving around the back of her head. “I’m going to be bad at this.”

“You were pretty good at the other part.”

“But this part is different,” he mumbled. “I’m- I’m proportional, Rey, and I know you hate when I call you small but-”

“ _Ben._ ” She kissed him, hard, tasting both of them together and finding that she didn’t mind the blend. “Do you need me on top?”

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding and rolling over, dragging her with him. She could feel his worry, his uncertainty, his love. He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to drive inside of her, but-

“I know,” she murmured, aligning herself with him as best she could. “Give me permission, Ben.”

Ben smiled, his hands smoothing over her, leaving a line of fire as they went. “Take me, sweetheart.”

And so she did, awkwardly sliding down his length and occasionally gasping at the feel of her flesh trying to accommodate him. 

“You don’t have to keep going,” Ben said in a thready voice, his expression undeniably blissful even as he did his best to focus on her. “ _Stars_.”

But she did. She wanted to. She wanted to see the look on his face when he bottomed out inside of her, wanted to see for a second time his expression when he came. “You were meant for me, Ben,” she murmured, swiping a thumb over one of his nipples. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes.” The bond between them intensified, and he frowned as he caught a glimmer of her discomfort. “That won’t do.”

She was flooded with a sudden surge of pleasure- _his_ pleasure, bright and overwhelming, and he grimaced as he took on a share of her sensations. “Give it back,” Rey demanded, resisting the urge to move even as her body wanted to chase exactly what he had given her. “ _Ben._ ”

“Take what you need, first.”

“I don’t care about pain,” she said helplessly, toes curling, and whimpered when one hand closed on her hip. 

“I care about _your_ pain.” He thrust upward, his other hand settling between her thighs, thumb circling her clit. “I’m not going to be the one to carry our children. Take this, Rey. Please.”

At that point she couldn’t do anything but tremble and rock into him, mind whiting out as his thumb pressed harder. “Thank you,” she managed to say before shaking apart and collapsing on top of him, doing her best to breathe as he wrapped one arm tightly around her and thrust frantically. 

And then it was over- quickly, as he had said, but she didn’t _care_ \- and with heat inside of her and his moan against her hair came a sudden rush of _outsideness,_ of life and death and plants sleeping beneath the soil throughout a long winter and- 

“What was that?” Rey breathed, feeling as if it would be hours before she would have the energy to slide off of his body. 

His mind languidly searched hers, arms still clasping her close. “That’s Alderaan.” 

“How did that happen?”

“I don’t know.” Ben sighed happily, body utterly relaxed under hers. “Is your magic purring?”

She considered for a moment, head pillowed on his shoulder. “Yeah,” Rey admitted with tired surprise. “I think it is.”

“We should think about that. In the morning.”

“I know.”

“And in a minute I’ll get up.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” she repeated, and meant it. “I love you, too.”

And she did, and she would, and as his chest rose and fell beneath her the lingering feeling from her dream returned, even stronger than before: _balance._


	22. time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Monday post! Three day weekends are great for fanfic-related productivity.

“You’re sore,” Ben mumbled against her neck, his arousal pressed hard and hot against her thigh. “But _stars,_ you’re ready.”

Rey giggled sleepily in the gray morning light, wrapping her legs around him. Sore, yes, but waking up pressed skin to skin had done wonders to offset that, and his fingers stroking between her thighs had done the rest. “Do something about it.”

“Insatiable,” he gasped as he pressed into her, his body a welcome weight on hers. She still felt a twinge of protest from muscles adjusting to new use, but the intimacy between them was too sweet, too precious, for Rey to care. “How are you so soft?”

“You’re biased.” 

He growled a little in the back of his throat, thrusting firmly in a way that surprised a whimper from her. “Soft. Soft and hot and wet and _perfect_ underneath me. I could keep you in bed forever.”

“I have to feed the chickens,” she teased breathlessly, and was rewarded with a thorough kiss and a gentle bite to her lower lip. “And I’m- I’m hungry.”

She was already on the precipice of orgasm, hands clenching at his back with each thrust as Ben’s own pleasure bled through the bond directly into her body. She didn’t think he could entirely control it, and what part of her mind that was capable of rational thought suspected he felt a similar transfer from her. It didn’t matter; the continuous loop of feedback from his nerve-endings to hers was as natural and irresistible as the pull of oxygen into her lungs. 

His hips stuttered against hers, the bond pulling her over the edge at the same moment Ben buried himself inside her with one last desperate thrust, his breath hot and panting against her temple. 

“I’m going to get better at this,” he muttered, and she laughed a little hysterically, feeling like a veritable puddle under him. 

“If you get any better you might kill me.”

Ben levered himself up on his elbows, hips still pressed firmly against hers. “I’m led to believe that longer is better,” he said with a wry smile, an ardent look in his eyes. “Would you mind?”

“I…”

Rey licked her lips, caught by the idea of this new pleasure dragged out even longer. “I might enjoy that. We’ll have to practice. A lot.”

“I’ve always been very good at research,” he replied seriously, smile slowly turning wicked. “All of my tutors commended me for my dedication.”

Just the thought of him turning all of that dedicated attention on her was enough to make her blush, heat building once more. Ben’s gaze sharpened, and when he slid out of her she choked back an involuntary gasp. 

“Insatiable,” he said again, sounding pleased, and though he was clearly spent he gathered her close, one hand slipping between her legs. “And soft, and sweet for me.”

 _Yes,_ Rey thought absently as he drove her to distraction. Yes, she could see the virtues of endurance.

And, for the first time in her life, she also understood the virtues of an extended honeymoon.

\- - -

Rey felt as if she had blushed more in the past months than in her first twenty years altogether, which was probably true. Giving any indication of her emotions, positive or otherwise, would have only led to trouble in Jakku; it wasn’t until Alderaan that she had felt she could actually show embarrassment or uncertainty or love without backlash. 

Still, sitting at the breakfast table with both Ben and his mother was… interesting. Interesting, because she _was_ sore, and because even Ben’s hand brushing against hers was a forceful reminder of everything they had done barely an hour before.

And- to her consternation- interesting because the pink roses looked as if their petals had been dipped in red dye, deeper color bleeding into lighter. 

_Did we do that?_ Rey asked Ben the moment she noticed, and felt a burst of shy pleasure from him. 

_I think so._

_I don’t know how._

She caught a glimpse of his smirk before he successfully hid it. _I think they’re attuned to us._

Leia said nothing. Leia only smiled and served them porridge, doling out second servings when their spoons scraped the bottom of bowls. Leia was quiet- or she was up until the moment Ben left to chop wood, the door closing behind him. 

“Do you need anything?” she asked, and when Rey’s gaze flew to meet hers a bit too frantically she chuckled. “The roses were a good hint, and the way you two look at each other confirmed my suspicions. Forget he’s my son for a moment,” Leia advised, settling in the chair across the table from Rey. “The first time can be uncomfortable for a woman, even when her partner is gentle. Are you well? Would you like some salve?”

Rey thought she might never stop blushing. “He was very considerate,” she mumbled, finding that she was unexpectedly pleased that Leia loved her enough to ask. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Leia folded her hands together on the tabletop, not looking away from her. “It’s not… consistent,” she said after a moment. “My father never felt the land after going to bed with my mother, and Han always claimed that he was magically null, but there were a few monarchs in my line whose spouses or lovers were able to sense the kingdom after the first joining.”

Rey’s reply was so quiet as to be nearly inaudible. “Really.” 

“I only mention it because you feel different.” Leia smiled a little. “I look at you and see the hardiest of summer wildflowers, the ones that only grow in Alderaan. I never saw that before this morning.”

“I did feel… something,” Rey admitted. “When I asked Ben he said it was the land.”

“Can you still feel it?”

“Yes.” Dimly, but it was there- and with it, a hint of the ache that both Ben and Leia felt. “Before… before everything, I dreamed of your mother.”

Leia raised a brow, sitting back in her chair. “You did?”

“Did you ever think about turning the land against Snoke?”

Not a direct answer or explanation, but Leia understood. Her shoulders, usually held at such a regal angle, curved inward with a weary sigh. “Often,” she murmured, raising a hand to rub her forehead. “Then, and since. I nearly did in the hours between when Ben was poisoned and when we sent him away, but I realized- I _knew_ \- that by then Snoke was hiding in the capital city itself, and taking out him and his adherents would have consigned all of Aldera itself to the earth. Doing so would have made me as great a tyrant as he’s proven himself to be.” For a moment she looked almost defeated. “Maybe I should have done it. Maybe it would have been better to become a monster in truth in the eyes of my people, rather than allowing Snoke to take control of their welfare.”

“It would have killed a part of you.”

“Probably.” Leia picked up one fallen petal, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. “It was never easy, growing up as the daughter of Anakin Skywalker. As much as the people appreciated the protection of the border, they never forgot- _have_ never forgotten- how it came to be. Which is as it should be, I suppose; who could forget such a tragedy.”

Rey considered those words, considered Leia and her handling of Snoke in a new light. Caution had held her back in the earliest days, and mercy had held her back at the end. “Is that why Luke is so… so stern?”

“I’m afraid so. Once it became clear that he inherited our father’s magic, people looked at him differently. He was a sweet, caring boy who feared harming anyone, but growing up under that kind of pressure… I think he found it easier to withdraw into a kind of voluntary monasticism than to play the part of a prince, especially after our mother died.” Leia briefly hesitated, pain evident in her eyes. “Still. I trusted him.”

Rey placed one hand on the table, fingertips barely touching Leia’s knuckles. “If it helps, I think he’s spent every day since punishing himself for what he did. He’s not- he really didn’t seem happy, or even mildly content.”

Leia smiled wryly. “As a mother, I will admit to being somewhat pleased by that. But- unfortunately- I still somehow love my foolish ass of a back-stabbing brother.”

It was the bluntest, least diplomatic thing Rey had ever heard Leia say, and a surprised laugh escaped her. 

“Now, my dear,” Leia said, smile shifting to something warmer and more genuine, “I have a babe and a new mother to check on. Try to enjoy your day; Snoke would love knowing that he made the lot of us exist in a state of prolonged anxiety.”

“I’ll try,” Rey promised as Leia stood. The older woman inspected her for a moment, head tilted slightly to the side. 

“Gingerbells.” She laughed as she walked away, reaching for her cloak. “A field of gingerbells, right there in your eyes.”

\- - -

That day passed, and the next, and the next, and the map never changed. A tenuous calm settled over the village after the first week, though some- including Poe- still avoided Ben with wary, suspicious stares.

“He needs to leave. No one will feel safe until he leaves,” Poe muttered in Rey’s ear one morning, only to grumble when she swung dismissively away from him, the intricate braid hanging down her back whipping through the air with the force of her turn.

“That man,” Rose huffed when Rey related the encounter later that day, both of them up to their elbows in soapy water. “He thought that he would be Leia’s successor over the village- which, to be fair, probably would have been the case if nothing had ever changed- and now he feels cheated.” She looked to Rey, one brow raised. “Of the village and the bride. I caught him practicing braids on his horse while you were gone.”

Rey scowled, more irritated by the implication than she might have usually been. Leia’s menstrual tea dulled the pain of her cramps, but couldn’t eradicate them altogether. “He never would have had me.”

“That was always obvious; you seemed to be unavailable nearly from the beginning.” Rose scrubbed the sheet in her hands harder against the washboard. “It was Ben, wasn’t it? Somehow.”

“It was,” Rey admitted. “Somehow.”

A sly smile crept onto Rose’s face, and she made a quick check over her shoulder for eavesdroppers despite the fact that they were alone in the laundry. “He makes you happy.”

The words were innocent, but her tone wasn’t. Rose’s smile turned to a knowing, inviting grin, though one that was a little shy- and it was that shyness that prompted Rey to open her mouth. “He does.” It was indecent, how happy he made her in bed, how eager she was for his hands and mouth and cock. “And Finn makes you happy?”

Rey had never had a friend like Rose before; had never known anyone she could discuss such things with, even in vague terms. Leia didn’t count; any discussion of sex with Leia could never be anything _but_ clinical, for Rey- and Rey found that she actually did want to talk, at least a little. To laugh and joke and exchange confidences, and not just about what it was like to be in bed with someone you loved.

Rose went starry-eyed, mouth softening and color flushing her cheeks. “Very.”

Rey lifted her hands from the water, clutching the edge of the tub. “I had no idea it could be like… like what it is.”

“When Paige first explained bedding to me I thought she was making it up,” Rose confessed in a whisper. “It sounded terrible. And messy.”

“It _is_ messy.”

Rose laughed full-throatedly, casting another look at the shut door. “ _Stars,_ I know. But- but I think I love it.” 

“I do,” Rey admitted with an embarrassed grin, looking down into the water. “I’d rather be with Ben than stay pristine for the rest of my life.”

They both began to giggle, though Rey had no idea who started it- it was simply irresistible and inevitable, and yet felt so very _normal._ As if she were just a regular member of the village, and not someone who could feel the richness of the slumbering fields, waiting for sowing season. 

“I’m glad you came back,” Rose told her, taking hold of the sheet again. “And I’m glad you brought Ben, no matter what happens.”

Rey’s enjoyment was checked, at that, though she didn’t think Rose had intended such a result. “Are you scared?”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Rose replied with a shrug. “But… ever since settling here, I’ve felt that there would one day be a confrontation. This village is a refuge, but it grows larger every year- new babies, people desperate enough to risk the journey, malnourished women found collapsed in the woods.”

Rey managed another laugh at that, albeit a shorter, quieter one. 

“We can’t take in the whole kingdom,” Rose continued, beginning on a pillowcase. “But eventually- after another five years, perhaps, or ten- we would have become enough of an irritant to draw his attention and his rage, if only to serve as an example.”

“You sound very calm about the prospect.”

“I’ve come to terms with the idea, and now I live my life in defiance of it.” Rose’s smile was sharp. “So until that wretched man makes his move, I intend to be as happy as possible… even if that does lead to me washing the sheets more often than usual.”

Rey snorted, and then they were both laughing again, loudly and hard enough for tears to begin rolling down Rey’s cheeks. “ _Stars,_ ” she gasped out. “I do like how your mind works.”

“So does Finn,” Rose said wickedly. “He finds himself appreciating it anew every night.”

Yes, Rey decided. A friend was an excellent thing to have.

\- - -

A month passed, then a second. Poe’s wariness remained, but a few others seemed to change their mind. “Strong as an ox and always willing to help,” Rey heard Snap declare at one point. “I won’t hear another bad word about him.” 

Rey’s magic seemed- at least for the time being- to settle, demeanor turning more mischievous house-cat than desperate beast. What oddities that happened were inoffensive, almost playful- her fire stayed neatly where placed, but changed colors. She fetched water from the well, only to return to the house and find a raw emerald at the bottom of one bucket. Flowers grew under her feet, bursting through the snow when she practiced both magic and weaponry in the woods. 

“What if it happens in public?” she fretted one day to Ben after trampling on a patch of delicate blue flowers. “I can’t go around the village trailing spring after me.”

“Summer,” he corrected, crouching to examine one unbruised bloom. “The summer flowers like you best, darling.”

“That’s what your mother said,” she muttered, leaning against a nearby tree. “I never did this before our magic blended.”

Ben- who showed no signs of developing her form of magic, but whose mind had begun to feel like the immediate aftermath of a cleansing storm, all clear air and petrichor- grinned up at her. “Perhaps it speaks to your fertility.”

“Hush.”

“Or generosity of spirit.” He straightened to his full height, taking her in his arms despite the live dagger she held at her side. “Or how very sweet you taste.”

“We’ll see how much you enjoy this new trick when we wake up to a bed full of roses, thorns and all.” She lifted to her toes to kiss him despite the annoyed edge to her words, adding “Dreadfully uncomfortable,” before claiming his mouth with her own.

It was possible to be happy, she found, even on the verge of probable war and destruction. It was possible to be overwhelmingly happy, save for the moment every evening when she held her breath, waiting for the map to settle into its final form. It was possible to laugh with Leia, to congratulate a beaming Rose on her pregnancy (“The tea was no match for our enthusiasm,” Rose joked, leaving Rey wondering if she herself felt glad or upset that the tea continued to work for _her,_ only to decide the answer included a little of both), to plan out the coming spring planting, all while a veritable tsunami threatened from the horizon.

“I feel like we’re stealing time,” she told Ben, her voice only the slightest of murmurs in the dark. “Each day feels like an illicit victory.”

“I think it is,” he replied sleepily, pulling her bare body closer. “Sleep, sweetheart. Tomorrow we’ll steal another day.”

She stole days one by one by one as the snow melted away and the brutal cold eased, as the first hints of spring appeared- until late one moonless night, when a heavy fist pounded on Leia’s door and left her with no more carefree days to steal.


	23. ultimatum

By all rights, neither Rey nor Ben should have heard the knock as well as they did, but the first pounding of fist against door brought with it a wave of emotion that jerked Rey from her sleep. 

“Stars,” Ben gasped, nearly tumbling out of bed, one hand already reaching for the nightshirt he had never even bothered to don before bed. Rey followed quickly, biting back a hiss as her bare feet hit the cold floor. 

“Not a birth,” she said as she jerked her equally ignored nightgown over her head. Neither of them commented on the candle that had lit the moment Rey opened her eyes. “Ben-”

“Nor an enemy,” he said grimly. “But bad news all the same.” 

He shouldn’t have looked intimidating in a nightshirt that barely reached his calves, but he did. Lover had been replaced by warrior, and when she picked up his grandmother’s dagger his eyes flashed with appreciation as he grabbed his own. 

Leia had reawakened the banked fire in the moments before they appeared, lending more light to the room. She stood in front of the barred door, a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “Good,” she said on seeing them. “You felt that. I’ll unbar the door; my fighting skills are nothing on either of you.”

It was a cold night, even for early spring. The air that slipped in through the door was reminiscent of winter, the space beyond dark as pitch- and then Chewie staggered through the open doorway, falling to his knees just inside the threshold. He was ragged and half-starved, and when Ben cursed and hauled the older man up and toward the hearth, Rey caught a glimpse of his left hand. Only three fingers remained, the stumps of the missing two ragged and looking overly-cauterized. 

_Bandages,_ Rey thought immediately as her breath came short, Leia’s lessons in the healing arts immediately springing to mind. _And salves, and broth, and-_

But her mentor, rather than bustling around the room in search of all of that and more, was still. She stared out into the dark night, desperation written plainly across her face. “I really thought he would come back,” Leia confessed in a low, uneven voice. “He’s never not.”

“I know.” Rey took her gently by the arm, pushing back her own sorrow in a bid to stay calm. “I know.”

“Han,” Leia said uncertainly, sounding as if she didn’t even realize she was speaking aloud. “I…”

She turned abruptly away, making for her cabinet of healing supplies without saying another word. Rey stood frozen for a moment, unsure if she should follow- but when she saw Leia brace her hands on the cabinet, shoulders hunched, she instead shut and barred the door. Better to give her a space, to give her at least a minute without having to put on a brave face. 

“-handsome bastard, aren’t you?” Rey heard Chewie say as she moved closer to the hearth. He was slumped in Leia’s chair, the most padded of the two. He continued, voice raw and utterly weary. “Knew you’d grow into those ears.”

Ben’s laugh sounded forced, but he was watching Chewie with a gentle, fond expression. “My hair’s covering them; you couldn’t possibly tell.”

“I can tell.” Chewie’s gaze drifted to Rey, and his smile widened slightly. “There’s our girl. Has he married you yet?”

Heat flooded her cheeks but she smiled nonetheless, setting water to heat over the fire. “We’ve been waiting for a few people,” she told him, settling on the floor next to Ben. “You, for one.”

“Don’t think I haven’t tried,” Ben said quietly, smoothing one hand over her loose, tangled hair. “Thank you for making sure she made it to me.”

“Rey would have made it with or without us,” Chewie replied with a slight wave of his uninjured hand. His eyelids fluttered, and Rey had the distinct sense that he was holding on to consciousness through strength of will alone. “Privilege to- to travel with her.” He tilted his head back as Leia approached. “Malla? The children?”

“Worried for you, but otherwise healthy and happy,” Leia reassured him, tone brisk. Chewie made an abortive motion to touch her arm, but she held herself so carefully that his hand fell back to his lap. “They’ll be overjoyed to see you.” 

“Couldn’t stop there first,” he explained. “One look at me and Malla will tuck me into bed for days on end, pouring tonics down my throat.”

“You could use it,” Leia retorted as she set clean cloths and crocks of ointments on the small table next to the chair. “Rey, when the water boils make him tea with this, please,” she added, handed her a small jar. 

“Leia-”

“You’ll drink whatever I give you, Chewie.” Leia raised a brow, looking very queenly in that moment despite her rumpled nightgown and mussed braid. “Won’t you?”

He blinked, the corners of his mouth quirking upward. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Han-”

Leia broke off, briefly looking stricken before she regained control of herself. “He’s been a bad influence on you,” she continued gruffly. “You-”

“Leia.” Chewie did grab her wrist, at that, straightening a little. “Sit down,” he said gently. “Healing can wait a moment.”

She sat heavily in the other chair. Rey barely breathed, and beside her Ben seemed to be in a similar situation, his mind like the air before a storm. _I wanted to see him,_ she could hear him think. _I wanted to see him so badly, Rey._

_I know._

“He was alive when I left,” Chewie began, but his expression was too shadowed to give any of them relief at his words. “Those soldiers herded us toward an even larger group of men. We took out a few, but after a fierce skirmish we were captured and dragged off to the castle. Snoke was-”

He hesitated, glancing toward Rey and Ben. “Snoke was in a rage by the time we arrived; couldn’t even bring himself to gloat over having Han as a captive. Sent us to the dungeons, instead. You don’t need to know what happened there.”

Leia’s face might as well have been etched from stone, and Ben- Ben’s mouth quivered, his eyes looking bruised. Rey tried not to look at Chewie’s marred hand; tried not to wonder what kind of torture Han had been subjected to, what horrors Snoke had visited upon them due to a fury Rey herself had caused- 

“You didn’t escape,” Ben said quietly when the silence stretched on. “Did you?”

Chewie shook his head, reaching into the pocket of his ragged coat. “Was sent away. With a message.” The envelope he produced was of thick, luxurious paper that looked to have been cream at one point; now it was battered and stained, the wax seal cracked and crumbling. “I would have forced them to execute me rather than act as Snoke’s errand boy, given my druthers… but Han convinced me to go.” 

“He would,” Leia murmured, eyes on the envelope. “Have you read it?”

“No. It’s spelled for you; wouldn’t open for me, even with the seal such a mess.”

“Of course.” She held out a hand, but he didn’t hand over his burden.

“Will you let me tell you what Han said, first?” Chewie said, a pleading note in his voice. “Please, Leia.”

Her open hand remained between them, but she said, “Very well.”

“‘Take our children and run’.” He cracked a slight smile, pain written across his face. “He was absolutely certain that Rey had found Ben and brought him back to you. Even when-”

Chewie swallowed, then continued. “Even when things were dark, that belief gave him hope. Said you should escape to Chandrila; that you and whichever villagers were willing to leave should strike out deeper into the forest until you hit the border.”

Her hand did not waver. “Give me the envelope, Chewie,” Leia said gently. “This is not a decision I can make lightly, or without knowing the full facts.”

He placed it in her hand, his own trembling. Leia opened it easily, drawing out a single sheet of thick paper. She read in silence, only once showing a glimmer of emotion: a slight intake of breath, paired with the creasing of her brow. 

“It’s an invitation,” she said eventually, each word clipped. “To Han’s execution. With the extremely _gracious_ offer of leaving the village be if Ben and I-”

She faltered, then continued in a way that sounded as if she were leaving something out. “-voluntarily travel to Aldera and join him in his fate.”

Chewie snorted. “He has no honor. The moment the axes fell he would prepare to march on the forest.”

“Or not.” Leia tossed the message into the fire, wrinkling her nose. She looked remarkably composed, but Rey suspected that one wrong word would shatter that faux-calm. “If he’s properly wary of my father’s ghost, this might be a way for him to save face.”

“The village would just be a village, without you,” Rey noted quietly. “The forest would let it stay, but it wouldn’t be… it would be ordinary.” She thought on Poe, who likely would become the natural leader if Leia and Ben disappeared. Rey might find him annoying, but she knew he wouldn’t be terrible at the job; he just wouldn’t bring the same verve or understanding to the role. 

Ben slipped an arm around her, hand curving over her hip. “What did you leave out?” he asked his mother, voice wary. “You omitted something.”

The line between her brows deepened. “He also wants Rey, though he doesn’t call her by name.” Leia’s mouth curled into a sneer. “I won’t dignify his words by speaking them aloud.”

Rey was fairly sure she could guess how Snoke had referred to her. _Witch,_ perhaps, if he had listened to Hux’s account. _The girl,_ if he had wished to be dismissive. Judging by the look on Leia’s face, Rey thought that the true wording was somewhere along the lines of _the prince’s whore._

Somehow, despite her best efforts, that thought slipped through to Ben. “Don’t,” he said immediately, looking directly at her, not seeming to care that he had spoken aloud. “Rey, don’t think that again, please.”

Rey- too tired and too weary to be discrete- answered him in kind. “There’s only one role I can fill, in his mind. He thinks I’m some magical nobody that you’ve taken to bed out of convenience.” A kind of dread built inside of her as the others gave her varying looks of incomprehension and horror. “And if he truly believes the border depends on your family line, perhaps he thinks that a baby would be easier to control than a grown man, curse or no.”

The turn in conversation might have thrown Leia, but outwardly she merely frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “You aren’t pregnant,” she said flatly. “You bled only a week ago.”

“I’m not,” Rey agreed. “But Snoke doesn’t know that. Or he might have… have plans to remedy the situation.”

She was in a world with magic, after all; magic that doomed people to endless sleep and created bloody traps at borderlines. Surely there was a magic that could consign two people locked in the same room to mindless lust. Magic to keep Rey from miscarrying, to ensure a healthy delivery. More magic to cast the same sleeping curse upon an infant that had been cast on its father, and Rey… Rey would be dragged screaming and kicking to the block, flowers sprouting up in her wake and tangling around her ankles. 

“Going to take Malla and the children to Chandrila,” Chewie said after a beat of silence, and though his words sounded certain Rey could hear a raw ache and reluctance behind them. “Han said he’d string me up by my beard if I didn’t, and the ghost didn’t tamper with me as I stumbled through the woods, neither night nor day. Surely he’d let a family pass through.”

Ben pressed his face into Rey’s hair, the hand at her hip tightening. “Do we have a deadline?” he asked, voice slightly muffled.

“A little over a month.” Leia laughed without humor. “Generous.” 

“He wants us to fret and second-guess ourselves. We stole something from him, and now he wants to steal everything from us, including our peace.” Rey allowed her eyes to close for a moment, leaning a little into Ben. “And if we come to the capital early in an attempt to free Han, he’ll know we’re coming, unless-”

“I will _not_ stay here while you hare off alone on a rescue mission,” Ben said fiercely, lifting his head up. “That isn’t an option.”

“He’ll be watching your movements, and I don’t know how to break that spell, especially from a distance.” Rey couldn’t repress a shudder. “I’d probably kill you trying.”

“She’s right,” Leia said before Ben could reply. “On both points- but so are you.” She began rummaging through the supplies on the table, mouth set in a narrow line. “Going off to Aldera by yourself would be suicide, Rey. Let me have a look at that hand,” Leia ordered Chewie, picking up a bowl. “Rey, fill this with hot water, please- and make that tea. Plans can wait a few more hours.”

There was steel in her voice, and beneath that what almost sounded like a vague note of desperation, as though she were barely holding herself together and needed their cooperation to stay that way. 

And so- after filling the bowl, and after making Chewie the tea that would dull his pain and speed healing- Rey fetched another jar of tea from the cupboard. A blend that soothed rather than healed, and one Leia had often enjoyed after long days, sweetened with a spoonful of honey. On that night, at least, there was nothing else Rey could do- not with magic, not with weapons, not with words. Tea was the only comfort she could give, even if Leia did stare blankly at the offering when Rey placed it on the table and Ben held his without drinking, staring down into the amber liquid as if scrying the future. 

And Rey- Rey allowed hers to cool untouched beside her, her fingers idly tracing the rim of the cup.

\- - -

_“Once upon a time.”_

_Rey didn’t look up. She kept her eyes trained on the beast that was her magic, which lay with its head on her lap. Maybe it was her mother that spoke- that was her mother’s voice, as best she remembered it- or maybe it was simply the part of her mind that still seemed to live in Jakku. Rey didn’t care. “This isn’t a story.”_

_“Once upon a time, a man and his wife had a child, and they had no use for her. When a stranger offered to buy their burden, they agreed happily and-”_

_“Stop.”_

_“-and never looked back, because-”_

_“I told you to stop.”_

_“-because nothing the girl touched stayed whole; eventually everything crumbled to dust and ashes in her hands, and her parents knew that from the moment she first drew breath.”_

_Her magic stirred uneasily under her hands, muzzle pressed against Rey’s belly. “No.”_

_Not a protestation, but outright denial. “No,” Rey said again, lifting her head to look at the shadow that waited just outside the glow of the clearing. There seemed to be something of cheap motel locks and barbed wire and hunger in this shadow, and Rey knew that it would devour her hard-won confidence if she let it. “No, I’m not that girl. I never was; I was always meant to make things grow.”_

_“Your flowers will wither.”_

_“Then they’ll bloom again when the time is right.”_

_“The dagger will miss its mark; it will fall from your hand.”_

_“Then I’ll pick up something else to defend myself with.”_

_“You’ll die in the castle courtyard, at the end of a rope or at a chopping block.”_

_“Then I’ll take Snoke with me.”_

_Her magic growled, and the shadow shivered and shrunk. “Go away,” Rey told it firmly, scratching the back of one furred ear. “I may not know the ending, but I tell this story, now.”_

_The shadow’s voice shifted, less her mother and more Rey herself. “I’m scared,” it whispered._

_“That,” Rey replied, watching as the shadow dissipated, “is the only sensible thing you’ve said.”_

\- - -

When she woke it was not quite dawn, and barely an hour had passed since she had actually fallen asleep. Rain tapped gently against the window, and for a minute she simply lay there, unnerved by the dream- and then the bruised sorrow that was Ben’s mind broke through the mental fog. He was awake, and seemed to be doing his best to take up as little space as possible on the other side of the bed. 

When she curled around him from behind, feeling him tremble with silent tears, he took the hand she rested against his chest and twined his fingers with hers. “I knew this was coming,” he mumbled, voice thick. “I even suspected that he held my father. But I… I still feel as if I’ve taken a blow to the chest.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I can run from this, Rey.”

She pressed her forehead against his back, releasing a deep breath. “I know.” There would be no escape over the border for them, no attempt to settle far from Snoke’s eye. 

“What are we going to do?”

“Befuddle him with wildflowers, apparently.” She brushed a kiss over his skin when he gave a short, surprised laugh. “Cover his throne with rash-inducing ivy. Think of the songs they’ll sing.”

“As long as we’re alive to hear them.”

They were both quiet for a moment, the occasional shiver still rippling through him. “We’re going to Aldera,” he said finally, and she squeezed his hand. 

“Yes.” Another kiss against his back, a firmer one. “We are.”


	24. bound

“Did you get any sleep?”

Leia barely stirred from her spot at the table, her gaze seemingly fixed on the few roses remaining, all of which refused to die- though on that particular morning they did, Rey had to admit, look a little battered. “I was thinking about how cold those dungeons are,” she answered instead. “We rarely kept many people there, in my day, and never for long.”

Rey tilted her head slightly to the side, wondering if she dared lay a hand on Leia’s shoulder. She hadn’t slept, clearly, and desperately needed to: the shadows under her eyes were dark, and her hands trembled, slightly. “Would you like some tea?”

“No. When will you leave?” Leia turned her head to look at her, stern clarity in those dark eyes. “Soon, I hope. You’ll want to get your crops into the ground within a matter of weeks or you’ll risk going hungry this winter. Keep drinking the tea; the first year will be hard enough without a baby.”

As Leia spoke Rey heard Ben enter from the bedroom, and she looked over her shoulder to give him a brief, panicked glance. “We’re not going to Chandrila,” he said to her relief, stepping up behind her. “But you should.”

Leia’s jaw firmed. “I should have sent you there to begin with. He can’t touch you in another kingdom-”

“Unless he sends assassins,” Ben interrupted gently. “Mother, I have no intention of fleeing the kingdom. Neither does Rey.”

She picked up a stray petal and began shredding it with tiny, precise motions. “You will, and soon. I’ll send you with a letter explaining matters, if you wish to go to court, but you really shouldn’t-”

“Mother.”

“-it would be safer to find a quiet village in the middle of nowhere. Rey, your herbalist skills are really quite good, considering your brief training; you can supplement your income blending cures for coughs and minor ailments.”

“We’re going to Aldera,” Rey said quietly at the first pause, and Leia gave her a cold look. 

“You are not.” She dropped the bits of pink to the table. “I am. And when I get there, I will end this.”

Ben sucked in a breath, his mind filling with visions of the earth ripping open, stone towers tumbling into a deep pit as screams filled the air. Rey, though, was not surprised: not by Ben’s reaction, nor by Leia’s intentions. It would be the border all over again; love and rage fueling a perfect and unspeakable tragedy. “And we’re supposed to live happy lives in Chandrila, even after the news trickles down to the countryside that a mad queen murdered thousands for the sake of revenge?” she asked bluntly, keeping her voice as level as possible. Leia flinched. “You wouldn’t allow yourself to become a monster when Snoke first appeared. Don’t give him the satisfaction of watching you do so now.”

“It would be a very short-lived satisfaction,” Leia said after a moment, weariness creeping into the words. “And I would rather take the burden on myself than risk losing the two of you to his machinations.”

Ben seemed to steady, taking the few steps needed to the table and kneeling at his mother’s feet. “We have better odds facing him together,” he said, taking one of her hands in his. “You said it yourself, Mother- going to Aldera alone would be suicide.”

Leia’s gaze fixed on him, perhaps ready to say aloud that her own death was a foregone conclusion, in her mind- and then suddenly looked behind, to Rey’s feet. When Rey looked down she saw green slipping through the cracks in the floorboards, buds unfurling to reveal orange, fragrant flowers. “Gingerbells,” Leia murmured. She seemed to make a decision, then, though by the look on her face it wasn’t one she particularly liked. “I can’t stop you, can I?”

“No,” Ben and Rey said simultaneously, startling a small smile from her. 

“He’ll know you’re coming,” she pointed out, touching a lock of Ben’s hair. “Have you forgotten that?”

“It might be something to use to our advantage,” Ben replied, albeit reluctantly. “I approach the gates while you guide Rey through the siege tunnels into the palace. You’ll be able to read them, on site; avoid the guards and blocked exits.”

Rey bit her lower lip, nearly vibrating with the urge to step forward and grab his shoulder. The ploy made sense, as much as she disliked it. 

“Rey can wake me up again,” he continued, utter certainty in his voice- and beneath that, a tinge of fear that had nothing to do with his faith in her. “No matter where I am, she’ll be able to find me.”

“Han’s going to be furious,” Leia murmured, almost to herself, and then met Rey’s eyes over his head. “Well?”

Rey shifted her weight, clenching her fists tight. “I’ll need a set of lock-picks,” she said after a moment. “Magic is all well and good, but sometimes simpler is better.”

“Our smith has made them for Han and Chewie before,” Leia replied, briefly curving her free hand around the back of Ben’s head. “He can easily make another set. We… we need to time this carefully.” She hesitated. “He’ll expect us to dither, I think. To look for another way for as long as possible.”

“Don’t you think he’ll be suspicious if only you show up?” Rey asked Ben, unable to keep the question back any longer. “Won’t he wonder where we are?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But nothing can be done about that, and my presence will at least distract him long enough to give you a chance at rescuing Father.”

“And then what?” Leia’s voice turned tart. “Even if we manage to smuggle Han out of the capital, that still leaves you in Snoke’s clutches. One rescue mission will be difficult enough; two would be impossible.” 

He came to his feet, face and thoughts unreadable. “I don’t know. I just know that I can’t ignore this; that I have to at least _try_ to set the situation aright. He can’t be allowed to continue down this path unopposed.” Ben paused. “We need to talk to Finn,” he said unexpectedly. “He was in the army, he’s likely been inside the palace more recently than either of us. We should map the layout, the locations of the tunnels.”

Leia nodded, slowly. “I agree. We could both use the reminder, and Rey shouldn’t be going in blind.” She gave him a piercing, assessing look. “I don’t want you playing the monster, Ben. If I’m not allowed, neither are you.”

He took in a breath, reaching out for Rey’s hand. “I have no intention of fulfilling Snoke’s lies,” Ben said carefully. “Not purposefully, at least. But I don’t think there is a way of doing this that won’t result in _some_ bloodshed.”

Leia stood, smoothing down her shawl and nightgown. “I suppose you’re right about that.” Her expression turned troubled, if resolute. “We should get started. Even with a delayed departure, we don’t have a great deal of time on our hands.”

And they would not be coming back here, Rey realized belatedly as Leia began to pull out clothing for the day. Win or lose, they were unlikely to return to this village, or at least not for a very long time. 

_Rey?_

Ben drew her gently away until they were just inside their bedroom, raising a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. _Sweetheart?_

_It’s nothing._

“It’s not,” he murmured, cupping her cheek. “What is it?”

In need of comfort- even if she couldn’t say so aloud- she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him. _This is the only home I’ve ever had. I’m going to miss it,_ Rey admitted, resting her head against his chest. _I’m going to miss our bed._

_There will be other beds._ He embraced her, his mental tone low and sweet. _Soft, warm ones._

_Assuming we don’t die._

Ben kissed the top of her head, and though she could tell that he, too, feared the coming battle, there was definitely some amusement in his thoughts. _My optimist._ The amusement ebbed, replaced by something earnest and gentle. _We’ll build another home, sweetheart. Together._

Better to think on that, rather than death. Better to think on making love with him in some ridiculously large bed with embroidered linens than on far darker prospects. She should be making tea, or starting porridge as Leia dressed behind a screen in the other room, but instead she snuggled closer. 

“I’ll be your home,” he whispered against her hair. “Let me, Rey.”

“You are,” she answered quietly, the steady beat of his heart in her ear. “And the superior kind. I’ve just become very fond of sleeping under a sound roof. And this is the first place I’ve ever felt… safe.”

“Understandable.” He seemed to be thinking of a particular room, one unknown to her, with a comfortable divan in front of the hearth and a wide bed curtained in blue velvet. “We’ll find a place you feel safe. I promise.”

She believed him. Given half an opportunity, Ben would provide exactly that. 

“I know.” She held him close, allowing her eyes to shut. “I know.”

\- - -

With Finn’s input, and using Leia’s precious stock of paper, they created a map that threatened to make Rey’s head swim. Dungeons and servants’ stairs, kitchens and treasuries, rooms for guests and inhabitants of varying status. The palace was a labyrinth, and an overwhelming one, at that. 

“You have an excellent memory,” Ben assured her when they were finally alone in the woods, having stolen away for one measly hour close to dusk. “And my mother will be with you; you won’t get lost.” He glanced down, smiling at the strand of ivy that had wound itself around his wrist. “Tell your plants to let me go, sweetheart, before I accidentally hurt them.”

“I didn’t ask it to do that,” she grumbled, scuffing one booted toe in the dirt. “Ben, I don’t want you facing Snoke by yourself.”

“Neither do I,” he replied wryly, holding out his unbound hand. “But I also don’t want my mother attempting a rescue mission on her own. She’s angry enough to bring the city down around her ears; you’ll keep her cautious.”

Rey laughed a little, moving a step closer. “You know I’ll come after you, right?” she asked, twining her fingers with his. “No matter what he might do, or where he might take you, I’ll find you again.”

“I have no doubt. I just wish-”

He paused, taking in a breath. “I hate putting you in that kind of danger. I hate that he has the means to follow my movements, that we’ve been forced into this particular scenario.” And beneath all that, a very real and unspoken fear that played on her own nerves: dark shadows and impenetrable sleep, his body left helpless and vulnerable wherever it might fall.

“We could always enter together. He- he might not even have your father in a dungeon; Han might be in a tower or… or…”

Drooping, bell-like white flowers were springing up between them. Tears, Rey immediately thought. All the tears she wanted to cry and couldn’t. 

“Why give him all his captives at once?” Ben replied quietly, unclasping their hands so that he could carefully unwind the ivy from his other wrist. “No need to put everyone he wants in the same place. And if I have a chance I’m going to drop a wall on him before he can lob a spell at me, so…”

“And then it would be you against his guards.” She sighed, hands dangling loose at her sides. “That terrible Hux, most likely. He wouldn’t be grateful to see his tyrant of a master dead.”

“More inclined to become the _next_ tyrant, I expect,” Ben said dryly. “I could pull a wall down on him, too.” 

He was smiling, slightly, and she felt a surge of longing to stand between him and anyone who wished him harm; to defend him with the same snarling fervor she had once employed in guarding what little she had to her name. “Ben?”

“Yes?”

“We agreed to wait till spring, and it is spring.” Ben looked confused, and she pressed on. “Marry me.” The request dropped from her lips easily, more easily than she had ever imagined. “I know it isn’t romantic, or what we wanted, but I don’t-”

Rey tried to order her disorganized mind, to put words to a feeling she couldn’t even explain to herself. “I… I want you in every way,” she said finally. “And I’m selfish enough to want a claim on you before we walk into what might be certain death.” 

“You want to be my wife, sweetheart?” He brushed the backs of his fingers gently over her hair. “I would have married you the moment you woke me up, and you know it.”

“For as long as we have, whether that’s decades or weeks. I love you- I love you _so much_.” She closed her hands gently around his wrists, only vaguely aware that flowers continued to spring up around them. “You already braid my hair,” Rey continued, suddenly feeling a little shy under the full force of Ben’s intense gaze. “I only want your hands in my hair for the rest of my life.”

The kiss wasn’t surprising, but the way he nearly pulled her off her feet was, arms closing around her with a ferocity that made her whimper in the back of her throat as his mouth took hers. He knew her well enough, by that point, to kiss her in a way that both teased and affirmed, in a way that made her wet and hot and eager to hike up her skirts. No hesitation, no uncertainty, just every bit of passion in his very tall frame and a fervency she was more than willing to let him spend exclusively on her. 

“Tonight,” he said in a low voice when he finally pulled away, Rey relying on him to hold her up more than she wanted to admit. “Marry me tonight.”

“Is that an option?”

“I doubt my mother will refuse to officiate.” He dropped another kiss on her lips, one so light she tried to chase his mouth when he lifted his head. “We don’t even need any witnesses. Just us and an elder and something to bind our hands together.”

“And a bed.”

“We have one for at least a few days yet.” Ben nuzzled his nose against the braid she wore like a crown, holding her close. “Thank you.”

“For marrying you?” She rested her head against his shoulder, still breathless. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“For loving me. For agreeing to come with me into danger. I-”

He hesitated, breath warm against her hairline. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a quiet life.”

“The good of having you outweighs any amount of chaos.” Rey slipped her fingers through his hair, appreciating its softness as she did so. “And we’ll have quiet moments, here and there, even if… even if a few weeks is all we get.” She took in a breath, both sad and resolute. “One way or another, we’re going to end this.”

_Even if it ends us_ went unsaid, but his arms tightened around her and she knew that he was thinking the same thing.

“Come,” she murmured, pulling away and taking his hand. “No more of that, not tonight.”

“No,” he agreed, and surprised her by first dropping her hand and then by scooping her up into the cradle of his arms, clearly intent on carrying her home through the glooming dusk. “Not tonight.”

\- - -

Leia was willing to officiate. More than willing, really; she was clearly so relieved to be offered any kind of pleasant distraction from their current situation that when Rey suggested holding the ceremony outside she agreed without question. “The forest brought me here,” Rey explained as Leia hurriedly took off her apron. “The forest should stand as a witness.” 

The forest, and Anakin, though Rey was still unsure how separate those two entities really were. In any case, she doubted that either power would mind them being out after dark, especially as they went no further than ten paces from the front door. They had no need of a lantern; the moon was full and bright, filling Leia’s herb garden with a silver glow that took on odd tinges of blue at the corners of Rey’s vision.

“Clasp your right hands together,” Leia instructed, unfolding the ribbon she held. Rey caught a glimpse of what appeared to be roses, but on taking Ben’s hand she forgot all about embroidery. There was only the warmth of his palm against hers and the way he looked at her, as though she were the embodiment of every bit of good fortune in the universe. 

_You are,_ he thought when her perception trickled through to him. _If you could only see the way you look at me. Like I’m your heart’s desire._

_You are. You always have been._

She felt more than saw the first binding of their hands together as he bent his head toward her, fingertips brushing over the pulse point of her wrist, and then the ceremony began in earnest. 

It was a quiet affair, vows spoken in murmurs as a light breeze rustled through the trees around them and teased at their hair and clothing. Five times the ribbon wrapped around their hands, Leia holding steady for every loop and promise- until the end, when her voice cracked on the word _wed._

And for a moment- after the sound of Leia’s voice had faded, after she had pulled the ribbon away from their hands- everything stopped. The wind died, and with it went every movement of leaf and branch and the occasional hoot of a nearby owl. The silence that fell was heavy with expectation, as if the entire forest held its breath- and then Rey lifted to her toes for a soft, lingering kiss from Ben and the world was set aright. A brisk breeze whisked past them, carrying with it so faint a scent of roses that Rey half-thought it was a trick of her mind. 

Leia wasn’t looking at them when they pulled apart, but somewhere behind them, an odd note in her expression. “Take your bride inside, Ben,” she said gently after they had regained her attention, and she tucked the ribbon into Rey’s pocket. “I need a moment.” She lifted a hand when Ben looked to protest. “Just a moment, I promise. I’ll follow you in shortly.”

Rey drew Ben- her _husband_ \- toward the door, noting his smile at the way the title kept repeating in her mind. “Say it aloud,” he encouraged quietly as they stepped over the threshold. “I want to hear it from your lips.”

“Husband.” 

“Again, wife.”

“Later.” Just those two words had Rey pressing her thighs tightly together in search of even a little pressure. “This is a dangerous game, with your mother due inside any second.”

“A fair point.”

Needing something to focus on that wasn’t her husband and his far-too-tempting self, Rey pulled the ribbon from her pocket, breath catching in her throat at her first real look. She had been right about the general theme, though the roses that clambered up the length of the ribbon were interspersed with the same orange flowers that had grown through the floor at Rey’s feet just that morning. No set pattern, no repetition or mirroring, just a riot of vines and flowers and the occasional thorn. 

“It will look beautiful braided into your hair,” Ben murmured, brushing a fingertip over one bloom. “If you’ll let me.”

“Yes. Please.” Rey tenderly folded the ribbon back up, feeling as if Leia had translated a part of Rey’s own soul into tiny, perfect stitches. “I’ve never seen this piece before.”

“I started that soon after I settled here,” Leia said from the doorway, lingering on the threshold. “I don’t even fully remember making it, to be honest, or choosing those particular flowers… but it was meant for the two of you, I think, even if I didn’t know it then.”

The blend of restrained anger and shock on her face set Rey’s skin to prickling. “Leia?” she asked warily as Ben wrapped an arm around her shoulders, a gesture that was as much protective toward her as it was bolstering for him. “What is it?”

“If we weren’t in need of every ally we could possibly find, I wouldn’t suggest this at all, or at least not tonight,” Leia replied, her brittle tone almost apologetic. “I would send him to the stable, instead, with that loaf of bread that didn’t rise correctly and the blanket that needs mending, but-”

Ben’s arm tightened around Rey’s shoulders, a flutter of nervousness rippling through his mind. “Let him in,” he said quietly, voice raspy. 

Leia stared at him, and then at Rey, who nodded gravely. “Very well.” She turned, one hand braced on the door-frame. “Come inside, Luke,” she said, tone turning from brittle to desert dry. “Come inside, and congratulate your nephew and new niece.”


	25. preparations

Rey had never been one to daydream about weddings, because until recently Rey had never expected to marry at all. Even then, she had never thought far beyond the feel of Ben’s hand bound to hers and the word _husband,_ which in her mind had gained a surprisingly silken and satisfying weight. _Husband,_ as far as she was concerned, was a word that had practically been created for Ben alone, though Rey realized that many spouses over the course of history would argue with that idea. 

Still. In none of her brief and few imaginings had Luke Skywalker played the part of witness, even from a distance. 

“Ben.” Luke’s voice was barely audible, visible surprise written across his face. “You really are alive.”

Rather than tighten his grip Ben turned inward to Rey, angling himself across her body in a way that still allowed him to meet his uncle’s gaze. Though Rey felt she hardly needed protecting from the man she had nearly killed, once upon a time, she did find herself warmed by the gesture. “I never died,” Ben replied stiffly, his other hand settling at the small of Rey’s back. “Appearances to the contrary.”

“I see that.” And Luke… Luke seemed to wilt, weight pressing down against his upper back. “I see that very well, now.”

Rey slipped her arms around Ben’s waist, sensing he needed her strength just as much as he needed to see her shielded from potential danger. “We didn’t expect to see you,” she said, striving to keep her voice level. No matter how much anger she might still carry for the man, Leia was right- they needed him as an ally. 

“I didn’t expect to see him,” Luke answered, whisper threadbare. “Or you. I heard rumors of Han’s capture, and I-”

He broke off, looking ashamed. “I came to offer aid. And to apologize,” he added, glancing at Leia. “Though I know an apology won’t be enough.”

“Barely a start,” Leia informed him, barring the door. “You look as though you’ve skulked at a snail’s pace across the kingdom, eating only grass and roots.”

“Closer to the truth than you think.” Luke moved closer to the fire, the flames highlighting the ragged state of his robes and his stark cheekbones. “Was that a wedding I interrupted?”

Rey allowed Ben to shift them both at Luke’s movements, keeping their original angles. “Rey does me the great honor of being my wife,” he replied warily. 

“For all of five minutes, give or take.” A dry note had crept into Luke’s voice, making him more the man Rey had first known. “She’s risked a great deal to find you.”

“Including you.”

If Luke was surprised by that pointed remark from Ben, he didn’t show it. “Including me.”

“He wasn’t that much of a challenge,” Rey said quietly, drawing a sharp laugh from Leia and a burst of amusement across the bond with Ben. “Leia, what needs to be done for supper?”

“Very little.” Leia eyed the two of them carefully, then added, “And I think you’re doing us all a service by being right where you are.”

Ben snorted, a flash of a childhood memory slipping through to Rey: being very small and huddled in a large bed on a stormy night, a stuffed dog clutched tight in his arms. She bit back a laugh, shaking a little against him.

_Having you close comforts me, but you’re definitely no toy,_ he thought, pulling her a little closer. _I’m sorry to be so… so protective. You’re a warrior, my storm, but I don’t trust him._

_I know… though I think if he tries anything here, your mother will rip out his heart with her bare hands._

_She does have that look,_ he agreed. 

“You’re bonded,” Luke said bluntly, startling them both. Leia looked up from the stack of bowls she held, a suspicious look on her face. “Her seeing you was no fluke.”

“Nor some parasitic ploy on my part,” Ben replied, and whatever burgeoning calm had been in his mind seemed to disappear entirely. “It just happened.”

“Bonds never just happen,” Luke muttered. “If Snoke is behind this-”

“He’s not,” Rey interjected, pulling herself from Ben’s embrace. “Your father is- or whatever is left of your father, anyway.” She crossed her arms over her chest, ready to fight with words if not with fists. “And I don’t need to stand here and justify that belief, not when you’re clearly still in a mood to reject whatever explanation we give you.”

“After years of caution, I find it hard to change my ways,” he said after a moment of hesitation, settling on the floor with a quiet grunt. “I’ll do my best to be more accepting. And it might be helpful,” he added begrudgingly. “Magic likes ceremonial ties; marriage should strengthen what you share.”

That hadn’t even occurred to Rey, but she supposed it would be a nice side benefit, if true. “What kind of aid did you have in mind?” she asked instead of commenting on his theory, taking Ben’s hand. 

“A distraction.” He leaned closer to the fire, averting his gaze. “Draw Snoke out, exchange magical blows while Leia steals Han back.”

No one said aloud the obvious, though they were all clearly thinking the same thing: the odds of Luke walking away from such a fight were slim, possibly even nonexistent. Judging by the look on his face, he had made peace with that fact. 

“Well,” Leia said after a moment, a slight tremor to her voice, “that might work… especially with Ben at your side. You should discuss how to use your two magics to best effect.”

Luke instantly looked to her, frowning. “He’s bonded with Rey, not me. They need to stay together for this fight.”

“He’s tracking my movements,” Ben explained curtly, pulling out a chair out from the table. “That’s already been proven.”

Luke’s frown deepened, but he didn’t appear surprised by the revelation. He seemed to mumble something thoughtfully to himself, one hand lifting to tug lightly at his beard. 

“Luke, come to the table.” Leia’s expression appeared to be a mere veneer of calm, her movements not quite her normal level of fluidity. “Before you start theorizing we should eat- and don’t argue, I recognize that expression. You’re about to mutter the evening away, utterly lost to the lot of us.” A small smile broke through, one that was equal parts loving and wry. “Or to me, I should say. I doubt Rey and Ben have plans to stay with us for long.”

“We don’t,” Ben said before Rey could formulate a reply, looking unapologetic when she glared up at him, blushing. _I have better things to do with my time than endure another evening of my uncle puzzling out a problem with a distant gaze,_ he explained, tilting his head toward the chair in an indication that she should take it. _I have every intention of consummating our marriage thoroughly._

She sat, cheeks still blazing. Ben was kind in bed, and generous, and she had no doubt that he would be that night- but there was something to his sudden intensity that felt off. _I’m not sure how that will be different from any other night._

_By morning you will be a very well-bedded bride._ He took the chair closest, watching her in a way that was not at all appropriate for the family table. _Sweetheart._

“Bank that heat, Ben,” Leia told him dryly, setting out bowls of stew. “No one doubts how much you love your wife, least of all Rey, and she looks ready to expire from embarrassment.”

He smirked, his answer almost mocking. The courtesies that were normally second-nature to him were shadows of their former selves. “I’m merely eager to further deepen our magical bond.”

“It wasn’t meant as an insult.” Luke warily took the chair opposite to Ben. “Just a happy coincidence.”

“ _Of course._ ”

Luke’s gaze dropped, settling on the bowl Leia set in front of him. “I’m sorry, Ben,” he murmured in the ensuing silence. “I know that words are nothing, compared to what you’ve been through, but I truly am sorry.”

There was a part of Ben’s mind that Rey could still feel radiate with hurt anger. He wanted to snarl, to speak cutting words, but instead his mouth flattened into a thin line. Beneath the table his hand curved over Rey’s thigh. “The fact that you’re here,” he said in stilted tones, eyes trained on some spot just over Luke’s shoulder, “is… a start.”

Leia looked between the two of them, and then met Rey’s gaze with a somewhat more hopeful expression. “Can we eat, then, without exchanging blows?” she asked, tone stern.

“Tonight,” Ben said quietly, picking up his spoon. “We’ll see about tomorrow.”

Rey wasn’t sure they could ask for much more, and judging by Leia’s relieved sigh she guessed that her mother-in-law agreed. 

\- - -

Dinner was awkward- almost painfully so- but the moment the bedroom door finally shut behind them the stony facade fell away from Ben. 

He looked, Rey thought, more than a little lost. 

“We could just sleep,” she offered, taking his hand in both of hers and gently toying with his fingers. She pressed a kiss to the well of his palm, wishing she knew the best way to soothe the pain he clearly felt. “You don’t have to put on a performance for me, Ben. Of any kind.”

“I’ve never met anyone who made me feel so insignificant,” he muttered, sitting heavily on the bed. “Other than Snoke, that is.”

“If it matters, I find you very significant.” Rey stayed close, keeping hold of his hand. “In every way. Impossible to ignore, really.”

“Because I’ve been bothering you ever since you arrived?” he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching reluctantly upward. “I suppose my persistence paid off.”

“If I didn’t appreciate your persistence we wouldn’t be in this room,” she informed him, deciding the tart note in her voice had been the correct tact when his mood seemed to lighten, at least a little. “And you aren’t a bother, Ben. I want _you_ \- and I want the you that is always trying to sneak kisses during the day and that wraps around me at night. If I wanted to be alone I would be.” She lifted their hands, kissing her way along each of his knuckles. “I certainly wouldn’t have a husband.”

He watched her for a moment, eyes soft, and then laughed gently. “Your thoughts are all _mine mine mine,_ my storm.”

“I may no longer be a thief, but I’m still enough of a scavenger to celebrate a life-changing haul.” Rey let go of his hand only to comb her fingers through his hair, tilting his head back. “And I don’t have to share you with a whole crew, only receiving a pittance in return.”

“No.” A smile spread over his face, shadows fading from his eyes. “I’m yours and yours alone, wife.”

“And tonight’s ours, and only ours, no matter who waits outside the door or what might happen tomorrow.” He was pulling up her skirts as she spoke, one hand slipping under the cloth to stroke the back of her thigh. “For a few hours, at least, I just want to be with my husband.”

“I can give you that,” he said earnestly, and if he had looked lost he now looked entirely found and focused on her and her alone. 

“But we could just curl up together,” she continued, wanting to be absolutely sure, “if that would be more comfortable.”

“No.” He reached for the laces of her gown, untying the bow at the top. “I want to love you.” Ben leaned in, brushing a kiss over her stomach as he loosened her bodice. “May I?”

“I wish you would.”

And it was sweet, all quiet laughter and murmurs as they carefully undressed each other, as they exchanged kisses far more tender and lingering than the bitter heat he had exuded before dinner. “Slow?” he asked after sheathing himself inside, every inch of Rey still trembling with the aftershocks of the orgasm he had patiently teased from her. “Let me be slow, Rey,” he murmured when he didn’t receive an answer, biting gently at her neck when she whimpered at the first thrust. “Please.”

She could barely think, the feel of him inside of her verging deliciously on almost too much. “Slow,” she managed to sigh, wrapping shaking arms around him. “Good.”

What he did to her rendered her speechless, toes curling against the sheets. He spoke in disjointed, nearly breathless growls, praising her for the sounds he managed to wrench from her throat, the dig of her nails into his back, the way she met every thrust. “Can you come for me again?” he murmured in her ear. “All lightning under your skin. Show me, Rey. Bloom for me.”

It was the pleading tone in his voice that tipped her over the edge; that, and a hard thrust home followed by the firm grind of his pelvis against hers. Whether or not she cried out she would never remember; all she knew was that he followed shortly after, flooding her with heat.

“I’m going to be sore in the morning,” she whispered lazily when she could once more form actual words, running her hand up and down his back. 

“Sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded exhausted and very, very pleased with himself, but given she felt much the same Rey was willing to forgive him. “Well, you did warn me.”

“Hmm.”

“And as much as I love having you on top of me, you are very heavy.”

With a grunt he rolled over, carrying her with him. “Is my wife satisfied?” he asked, wearing an easy, sly smile. “Perhaps she’d like my mouth again.”

“Any more husbandly attentions and you’ll be a widower.”

“Perhaps in the morning, then. To help with the ache.”

And he would wake her up in exactly that manner, if she let him. “Perhaps.” She brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. Husband. “Perhaps, indeed.”

\- - - 

The morning saw the start of a tentative peace. “No use squabbling amongst each other,” Ben mumbled when she commented on his restraint. “We have enough problems without that.”

The kiss she gave him was not a reward, she told herself. She simply enjoyed kissing him, and if she _happened_ to be relieved that their home for a few days more wouldn’t feel like a war zone, then that was just a coincidence. In any case, Luke seemed too distracted to start any fights himself. He ate, he trimmed his hair and beard when Leia ordered, he helped with the chores, but did everything with a somewhat distant gaze, occasionally whispering inscrutable phrases to himself.

“Problem solving,” Leia confirmed with a slight smile when Rey asked. “It used to annoy me to a ridiculous extent, but now I’m accustomed… and he usually does come up with some kind of solution.” She set the lump of bread dough she had been kneading into a bowl to rise. “And we could use some solutions, at the moment.”

Rey finished peeling the potato in her hands and reached for another. “I’m already getting questions from the villagers.”

“There’s no point in hiding the truth.” Leia began to meticulously scrub flour and dough from her fingers with a damp cloth, looking a little distant herself. “I can’t just disappear and leave them wondering.”

“Poe seems pleased,” Rey offered tentatively after several beats of silence, grimacing when she nearly nicked a finger with the paring knife.

“As irritating as his behavior has been over the past weeks, he’s still who everyone will look to in my absence.” Leia lifted one shoulder in a shrug, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. “Eventually he’ll learn that a leader needs more than charisma to succeed. I think he might get there, given time.”

“That’s a kind interpretation.”

“He’s brash, but his instincts are good.” Leia paused. “About most things, that is. Still, you have to admit that when it comes to Ben we are both a little biased.”

Rey’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Perhaps a very little.”

Leia’s hand, now clean, landed lightly on Rey’s shoulder. “I don’t suppose you would reconsider going to Chandrila,” she asked quietly, looking more present when Rey met her gaze. “Luke and I are a formidable pair, you know- or we were once.”

“I’m sure you still are.”

“Avoiding the question? I already know the answer, I suppose.” She touched the complex braid that fell down Rey’s back, expression softening. “I’m glad- very glad- that you decided to marry when you did.” She laughed quietly, unexpectedly. “And if all goes well, now you won’t have to endure a royal wedding. Terrible things; far too long-winded and expensive. Han… I think Han nearly ran when he realized the spectacle ours would be.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No. He suffered it bravely, and when we were finally alone he-”

Leia broke off, a smirk briefly appearing on her face. “But you don’t want the details of that, and I don’t particularly want to share them.”

Rey looked down at the half-peeled potato she held, torn between mirth and embarrassment. “I hope I get a chance to make my daughter-in-law blush, one day.”

She felt a faint pressure on the top of her head: a kiss. “I hope so, too.”

\- - -

Lock-picks were packed away (after Rey had spent a day reacquainting herself with the art), weapons were honed, and necessary provisions for humans and horses filled saddle-bags to bursting. No one would go hungry, on this journey, though they might yet waste away with worry. 

And then, a surprise: volunteers. 

“You can’t,” Rey said flatly when the idea was first aired. “Stars, Rose, you’re pregnant.”

“Only a little,” Rose replied stubbornly. Behind her Finn wore the expression of a man who had spent the better part of twenty-four hours arguing only to lose. “I’m not even showing yet, and what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t try to make a better life for my child?”

“A safe one,” Leia interjected gently, not a shred of criticism in her voice. 

“For now,” Rose agreed. “Only to live with the fear of Snoke hanging over our heads for years to come, if you fail. I’d rather join your cause than wait.”

“And I- reluctantly, I’ll admit- feel the same.” Finn stepped forward, placing his hand in a gesture of support on his wife’s back. “I still have my skill with a sword, and _no one_ is a better shot than Rose.” He gave her a loving look, and while there was some resignation, there, that was understandable. “And if you don’t allow us to come, Rose will probably drag me after you, anyway.”

Rey exchanged looks with Leia and Ben, and it was the latter who spoke first. “Let them,” Ben declared. “They’re right- we need help. And Rose is truly impressive with a bow; I wouldn’t want her fighting against me.”

“Thank you,” Rose told him graciously. 

“You know the risks?” Leia asked quietly. “Not just the obvious ones. The journey will be hard, infiltrating the palace even harder. There’s no guarantee you won’t miscarry.”

Rose gave one short nod, leaning a little into Finn. “I know.”

“Very well, then.” Leia stood, briefly cupping Rose’s cheek. “Has the tea I gave you helped with the nausea?”

“It has.”

“I’ll pack it, then. Thank you- both of you.”

Rey walked Rose and Finn outside, waiting while they exchanged a quick kiss and Finn left to ask the fletcher for as many arrows as she could spare. 

“One day,” Rey said once they were alone. “Is that enough time?”

“To prepare? Yes. To say goodbye?” Rose shrugged, stubbornness dropping away to reveal sorrow and a little fear. “Paige will be furious.”

Paige- heavily pregnant, and fiercely protective of her younger sister- likely would be. “Will you tell her?”

“I have to. Denying her the chance to yell at me over this wouldn’t be very sisterly.” 

Rey snorted, amused despite herself. “What a kind sister you are.”

“Oh,” Rose replied with a grin, expression lightening for the space of a moment with mischief, “I do my best.”


	26. spell

“I packed extra pins.”

Rey pressed a kiss to the inside of Ben’s clothed thigh as his fingers combed through her hair. “Going to braid my hair even on the road, are you?” she asked quietly, wishing that it were any other morning. If it were, she would come to her knees and turn; unlace his trousers and take him in her mouth. It would inevitably end with both of them cuddled up in bed and him carefully untangling her hair, but that had never stopped them from enjoying the experience at least a dozen times before. 

“Every morning,” he promised. “You-”

Ben hesitated, and when he spoke again it was with an odd, thick note in his voice. “You’ll wear our wedding ribbon every day, until we’re safe.”

“Oh.” A heaviness caught in her throat. “It’ll get dirty.”

“It can be washed.” He began to section off a portion of her hair, the feel so familiar and so beloved Rey trembled, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Don’t cry,” he murmured. “No matter what happens, sweetheart, I’ll come back for you. Or you’ll come for me, which might actually be more likely.”

“It just… it will never be like this again.” 

Whether they lived or died, there would never again be this room, this bed, this cozy solitude.

“No,” he agreed softly. “But we’ll adjust, my storm. We’ll still be together… and we’ll find new and interesting places to seduce each other.”

She laughed a little, grateful for the distraction. “Tired of being confined to just a bed?”

“Beds are a classic for a reason.” He expertly twined strands of her hair with the ribbon, creating an artful knot that she had no doubt would last throughout a day of riding. “But I have hopes of taking advantage of you in the library. Finding a curtained nook in the royal gallery. Maybe even bedding you in a hayloft.”

“We could have done that here,” Rey said with a chuckle, wiping the back of her hands under her eyes. 

“Not above the stalls of steeds with more distinguished lineages than mine, we couldn’t.”

“I’m not sure I could stand to be judged by such discerning creatures.” 

“Maybe not a hayloft, then.” He brushed a kiss over the crook of her neck, her hair held up half by pins and half by his hands. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

She waited in silence as he worked, pin by pin sliding into her hair, until finally came the moment when he was done- and then she did come to her knees, turning to cup his face in her hands. “I’m glad we had this place,” Rey admitted softly. “I’ll always think of it fondly… but you’re right. We’ll adjust.” She kissed him gently, barely a skim of her lips against his. “You are my home. I’d rather have you than any quiet room.”

Relief drifted through the bond- relief, and love. “There will still be quiet rooms,” he promised. “Safe ones. Just you and me, my storm.”

“Are you ready, then?”

He delicately touched a wisp of hair at her temple, a bit of regret coloring his thoughts. “Yes.”

Ben helped her to her feet, hands curling lightly around her shoulders. “Pity we won’t be riding double again,” he added with a smile. “I enjoyed that.”

“Falcon deserves better,” Rey retorted good-naturedly, only to falter. “And… and we need to be quick. Not weighed down.”

“You’ve never weighed me down,” Ben replied with a caress to her cheek. “But you have a good point about Falcon.”

“He’s a good horse.”

“I know.” He offered her his hand. “Wife?”

Rey cast one last glance around the room, taking in what little it held with bittersweet fondness. _Goodbye._

She slipped a hand into his, twitching the rumpled quilt straight with the other. “Husband.”

\- - -

The entire village showed up to see them off, all looking worried and sorrowful as they bade goodbye to the woman who had sheltered them for so long. As Leia moved through the crowd, exchanging a few quiet words with every person present, Rey snuck her horse a lump of sugar. 

“I wish I knew what happened to Astra,” she murmured to the mare, unsure what the beast’s name was and equally unsure whether she wanted to know. “I’ll try to do better by you.”

Ben was readying Falcon, looking to be whispering words of his own in the gelding’s ear. Other horses waited for Finn, Rose, Luke, and Leia, all carrying their fair share of supplies. 

“Rey.”

Chewie stood close by when Rey turned. He no longer looked liable to fall over at a stiff breeze, but there was no doubt that more needed recovery lay ahead of him. “I wish I could come with you.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” she told him earnestly, taking a step forward to clasp her hands around his. “Chewie, you performed an amazing feat.”

“I’ve never failed Han before,” he replied softly. “Seems unfit to abandon my duty half-done.”

“You didn’t fail him,” Rey insisted, and something in her tone or thoughts must have caught Ben’s attention, because he made his way over to them. “We never would have known, if you hadn’t pressed onward hour by hour, day by day.”

“And what did you always tell the soldiers when they were injured?” Ben interjected in a low tone, laying a hand on Chewie’s shoulder. “You threatened them, as I recall,” he continued, a slight smile on his face. “Out of concern, of course. Told them it would be a waste of resources to send a half-healed soldier back into the field, fit only to be cut down by the enemy.”

“We had a large army, then,” Chewie replied gruffly. “We could afford to be kind.”

“I think…”

Ben slid a glance toward his uncle, sighing a little. “It might be even more important to be kind now,” he muttered begrudgingly, and Chewie leveled a long look on him. “With so few of us remaining.”

For a long moment none of them spoke, and then Chewie managed a grin and clapped Ben on the back. “Come back or I’ll come find you,” he told both of them, and when Rey laughed he nodded toward her. “You’re a good match. Take care of each other; I have high hopes of dandling your babies on my knee someday.”

“No one will harm Rey while I’m around,” Ben promised gravely, at nearly the same instant Rey said, “I’ll gut anyone who hurts him.”

“What?” she said when they both looked to her, displaying varying degrees of amusement. “I would.” 

“A wife to treasure,” Chewie said fondly, so fondly that Rey momentarily wondered if she and Malla had more in common than she had thought. “Keep that blade honed, Rey. You may yet get an opportunity.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she replied dryly, but with no regret.

“You are my treasure,” Ben murmured into her hair when Chewie moved away to exchange parting words with Rose and Finn. Deeper in the crowd, Leia was speaking seriously with Poe, the younger man looking uncharacteristically grave. “Are you ready?”

Rey felt sick and a little scared, and intensely _ready_ to be done with the whole ordeal. Dead or alive, she wanted to be past the rescue of Han and the inevitable meeting with Snoke- though she would, of course, prefer to survive. _When this is all done, I want honey cakes,_ she told him, switching to their private mode of communication. _And I want you to feed them to me in bed._

A messy, ridiculously indulgent scenario, but his thoughts immediately turned to sucking honey off of her nipples and- Rey had to admit- she found the idea intriguing. 

_See that, do you?_ he asked, slipping an arm around her waist and holding her close. _Don’t blush, my storm, people are watching._

_It’s your fault._ Sort of.

She sensed that he smirked, his face still tilted downward, away from the crowd. _But you blush so prettily._

_Ben._

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Though you do.” 

Ben tilted her chin upward gently, pressing a soft kiss against her lips, and Rey let him, because she dearly wanted that kiss. “We’re on our way.”

“Yes,” she replied, relaxing. All eyes were on Leia, who was walking toward her horse. “Yes, we are.”

And they left, with well wishers at their backs and the green forest ahead, a mist of rain drizzling through the trees to dampen their cloaks. 

\- - -

“I have an idea.”

Rey looked up from the pile of wet wood that was their (hopeful) campfire for the evening, caught by Luke’s sudden announcement.

“Best to discuss it while we’re still within the forest,” he continued, looking a little distracted. “No clue who might be listening outside the boundary.”

A snap of her fingers and a fervent, silent request to her magic made the logs blaze, and they all settled around its warmth, watching Luke. 

“I can’t dismantle the tracking spell, not from this distance,” he told them. “But I can muddle it.” Luke looked away from the flames, meeting Ben’s gaze. “Replicate it.”

Ben’s hand curled around Rey’s, his thoughts briefly running wild. “Two of me,” he said after a moment, more a question than a statement, and Luke nodded. 

“It can’t be put on a horse, though, or a tree- only on a willing person.” He leaned in, a little, expression determined. “If I’m right, Snoke won’t be able to tell the difference. He’ll suddenly have two targets instead of one-”

“-dividing his attention,” Ben interrupted, eyes sharp. “Traveling in two different directions.”

“Three.”

They all looked to Finn, who himself was watching only his wife. Rose gave him an approving nod. “Better to have three,” Finn continued. “I’ll take the third. Rose will go with Rey and Leia-”

“I will not.” Rose snapped out the words, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ll have better odds with me along, and you know it.”

Finn huffed a laugh, rubbing one hand over his face. “Well. Yes.”

“So three,” she told them firmly. “When?”

“That’s the delicate part,” Luke admitted. “It would be better to wait until we’re closer to the capital, assuming he doesn’t send a band of soldiers to escort us.”

“Easy enough to check.” Leia took up a handful of wet earth, dropping it onto one of the flat stones surrounding their fire. “We’ll continue using the map spell; that will tell us if anyone comes close.”

Rey studied the way Ben’s fingers twined with hers, feeling a little off. “Only three?” she asked, already knowing the answer. “Not four?”

“I think we’re meant to be sneaking into a dungeon, darling,” Leia said quietly, almost apologetically.

“I would do that part for you, if I could.” Ben whispered the words, squeezing her hand. “But you need to be as far from me as possible, at the end. Everyone does.”

“Not the end,” Rey replied, throat painfully tight. “Just… just…”

“That time,” he offered, using his free hand to pull her cloak more closely around her shoulders. “I know.”

For a while they were all quiet, the sky finishing its shift from dusk to full on night. Finally, Rose said- in an interested, unafraid tone- “Do you think we’ll see the ghost?”

Deep in the trees, almost out of sight, there was a blueish glow. “No,” Rey replied, leaning into Ben, certain for no reason she could determine. Rain fell around them, though not on them, and nearby Leia studied the miniature kingdom made of soil and magic. “But we’ll stay dry.”

“No soldiers coming, at least not yet,” Leia told them after a few minutes more, accepting fresh bread and cheese from Rose when she handed food around. “But that won’t last forever.”

“A problem for another day,” Rose said quietly, pressing a portion into Rey’s hands. “Tonight we should sleep while we can- this may be our last safe night.”

_Comfortable?_ Ben asked Rey later, one arm tucked securely around her as they lay wrapped in blankets. A layer of waterproof canvas below kept them from the dampness of the ground. 

_I’ve grown spoiled,_ she admitted. _I already miss sleeping on a mattress._

She also missed the warmth of his skin against hers, and the quiet intimacy she always felt when he took down her hair at the end of the day. He had unpinned her hair in camp, twining it into a simple, unadorned braid, but he had done so in a circumspect manner: no soft kisses, no teasing words, no bold caresses. Their wedding ribbon was now wrapped securely around one of Rey’s wrists, that arm held close to her chest. 

His hand snuck under her shirt, spreading over the skin of her belly. It was a small taste of what she wanted, but it was enough. _Sleep._ His mental voice was gently encouraging, almost a caress. _I’m not going anywhere._

Not that night, no- but she put that thought aside. 

As Rose had said, a problem for another day.

\- - -

For nearly a week- a gloomy, drizzly span of time- they saw nothing living, save the occasional rabbit or deer. They finished the bread before it could grow stale, moving on to journey cakes in waxed cloth wrappings. Those were supplemented with dried meat and wrinkled apples, foraged greens and potatoes cooked overnight in ashes. Rey, who felt as if the stress and uncertainty were eating away at her bit by bit, had to force herself to swallow every bite. 

Each night, Leia or Ben conjured a map. On that map a dot of green eventually split from the capital, gradually moving closer and closer.

“Tomorrow,” Leia said grimly one evening when they were still several days from the capital, the dot of green disturbingly close to their own spot of blue. “Around midday, likely- which means we have a choice to make. Do we fight, or do we separate?”

“Without knowing the size of their party it would be foolish to stay and fight,” Finn put in grimly. “It could be only a clutch of soldiers, or it could be a whole squadron.”

“And while Snoke wants certain of us alive, he might not care if we arrive maimed and beaten.” Luke rubbed a bit of hard journey cake between his fingers, letting the crumbs fall to the ground. “I say we split, rather than risk a fight we can’t win. They’ll be forced to split their force as well, evening the odds until Snoke can send out reinforcements.”

It was the best option, Rey knew, and had been inevitable ever since they left the village- but there was a part of her that wanted to scream out a protest. _I’ve been stealing days one by one,_ she thought numbly. _I’ve finally reached the last._

“In the morning, then,” Ben was saying, his mind carefully blank on the other end of the bond. “Whose turn is it to keep first watch?”

“Mine.” Luke allowed more crumbs to slip through his fingers. “Finn, Rose, which direction do you want to take?”

As Finn and Rose leaned in, discussing the merits of delving into the foothills of the mountains to the south, Ben rose and offered Rey his hand. “Come with me,” he murmured. “Please.”

It was a cool evening, but the moonlit sky was clear for the first time in several days. They walked until they were well out of sight of the camp, stopping under the drooping branches of a willow. “This isn’t what I wanted, either,” he said, cupping Rey’s face in one hand, barely visible even though he stood close. “But we knew it was coming.”

“I-”

She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure there was anything she could say that wasn’t _Don’t leave me. Stay._

“Rey?”

In lieu of words she began unfastening his trousers, lifting to her toes to catch him in a kiss. After a moment of surprise he moved his hands to tug at the fastenings of her own clothing, leaning in to deepen the kiss to something fervent, almost desperate. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Ben said when she backed up against the trunk, pulling him with her. He sounded almost as if he were giving her an order, when he spoke, or perhaps the order was for the universe in general. Rey wrapped her arms around his neck, her own trousers nearly at her ankles by the time he hoisted her up, hands gripping her ass securely. “Touch yourself, Rey,” he murmured, making a wordless sound of approval when she slipped one hand between her thighs. 

“I’m going to find you again, sweetheart,” he promised in a low voice as she moved her fingertips in circular motions, the backs of her fingers brushing against his cock. “We won’t be parted after that.”

“I’m- I’m going to hold you to that,” she managed, gasping a little. “Ben.”

“Are you ready, my storm?” He held her up easily, as though she were weightless. “Can you take me?”

“ _Please_.”

With a grunt he pressed inside of her, swallowing her moan with a kiss as he sheathed himself to the hilt. “Going to inspect every inch of you after this is over,” Ben rasped in her ear. “Kiss every bruise, every scar, and then I’m going to love you until we’re both insensible.”

She had no leverage, nothing to hold but him as he fucked her against the tree, and she felt herself melting more with every thrust. “Good. Why- why haven’t we done this before?”

“No clue.” Despite their dim surroundings she caught a glimpse of his wolfish grin before he brushed a delicate kiss to her temple, breath hot against her skin. “But you like it.”

She did. She loved when she pinned him down, and she loved when his mouth was between her legs, and she loved when she could do nothing but hold on and be taken. Her magic was spreading around them, drawing sweet-smelling flowers from the earth even as she dropped her head to his shoulder, trusting him with herself in every respect. 

After, when they were tugging their clothing back into place and attempting to smooth rumpled hair, a beam of moonlight cut through a gap in the branches and illuminated the backs of Ben’s hands. “Your poor knuckles,” Rey murmured, taking one hand carefully and examining his scraped skin. “The bark?”

“Better my knuckles than your lovely ass, darling,” he told her with a low laugh. “Are you tired?”

Her joy dimmed, a cool breeze rustling the drooping leaves and whisking away the scent of flowers. “I suppose so.”

They walked back to the camp hand in hand, both silent under the glow of the moon.

\- - -

“Close, but still a few hours out,” Leia guessed the next morning, releasing her hold on the map spell. “Three at most, probably closer to two.”

“No time to linger.” Luke swept a glance around their group. “The moment this spell is done we all have to part. Any last questions or concerns?”

“None,” Rose said, tightening the girth on her saddle. A bow and quiver of arrows was slung over one shoulder. “Finn and I know our route.”

They would ride to the south, drawing a portion of forces away from the capital. Ideally they would veer back around to the forest after several days of seemingly heading straight for the border. Luke would ride east, Ben north, and Leia and Rey would take a path between.

“Give me your hands, then,” Luke said gruffly, holding out his to Ben and Finn. “This will only take a minute, and it might sting.”

Rey saw nothing, externally- no light, no sign that magic coursed through the three men standing only feet away- and then something like the sharp bite of an electric shock bled through the bond, and she saw all three grimace. 

“There.” Luke sounded a little dazed as they dropped hands, shaking his own out as if trying to chase a tingling sensation from his fingertips. “Three hunted princes, ready to flee.”

Rey’s stomach twisted, her breath coming quickly. _Stars, not yet,_ she thought desperately, even knowing that time was up and there were no more days or minutes or even seconds to steal. _Not yet, not yet._

But Ben had pulled his mother into one last hug, and Finn and Rose were both mounting their horses, and Luke was striding away, and then her husband was in front of her. “Think of me,” he whispered. “Keep the bond open. We should be able to feel each other, even separated by distance.” He kissed her hard, holding her close for far too short a time before stepping back, meeting her eyes one last time. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

It took every ounce of determination to turn away, ignoring the part of her mind that pled _not yet not yet_ as she settled in the saddle. Leia looked to be holding herself together with similar willpower, hands clenched around the reins. 

“I’m glad we’re traveling together,” Rey managed in a raw voice as Falcon cantered away, carrying Ben quickly out of sight. Her own horse ran smoothly toward a series of low, rolling hills, keeping pace with Leia’s mount. “Mother.”

Leia blinked, a tear slipping down her cheek. “As am I.” Rey caught a flash of a tremulous smile. “Daughter.”


	27. allies

Rey was nowhere near as proficient when it came to braiding her own hair as Ben was, and after reluctantly taking down his last creation she didn’t even try to recreate it. She tied her hair back with the ribbon, instead, wondering all the while if it would be safer around her wrist, or even tied around her neck. The ribbon felt like a talisman, of a sort, and Rey wasn’t quite sure how she would react if it went missing.

“Rey?”

She met Leia’s gaze over the small fire they had allowed themselves. This was a relatively short stop; a few hours of sleep for each and they would be back on their way. “Yes?”

“Is he well?”

Leia wasn’t bothering to wear a mask, at that moment. She looked exactly as worried as she was, though her hands were steady as she portioned out pinches of dried herbs into their mugs. Rey concentrated, focusing on what she could glean from Ben’s mind. “He’s sleeping, I think,” she said after a moment. Distance had not yet blurred the connection, assuming that would happen at all. “Still safe. Maybe a little cold.”

Ben, the magical beacon that he was, wouldn’t dare start a fire. In all likelihood he had fed and watered Falcon, and then settled under a tree for a brief nap. Maybe, if she was lucky, their dreams would intersect.

“Will you tell me if that changes?”

“I don’t think I would be able to hide it,” Rey answered honestly, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I think… I think no matter how far apart we are, I would still feel something.”

Leia nodded slightly, gaze dropping for a few seconds to the untouched food at Rey’s side. “You need to eat.”

“I know.”

“Rey.”

A quiet, patient utterance of her name. Rey looked away, focusing on the darkness around their simple camp. “I didn’t know when we left,” she muttered. “It was only a day or two ago when I thought… maybe.”

“You didn’t tell him,” Leia said plainly, not a hint of a question or censure in her tone.

“He has enough to worry about.” Concealing it had been easy enough, given that Rey scarcely believed it herself, and Ben’s departure had more or less temporarily pushed the suspicion from her mind. “And it wouldn’t be… it wouldn’t be long, I don’t think.” 

“No, it wouldn’t.”

Rey smirked, pressing her face to her knees. Almost impossible to hide such a thing as a menstrual cycle in their small home, even with Rey washing her own cloths. “I think it was our wedding night,” she mumbled, tightening her arms around her legs. “All that talk about magic and ceremonial ties. I don’t know about magic, but something else might have happened.”

She heard a rustle across the fire, and a few seconds later Leia was settling beside her, an arm curving around her shoulders. “My brave girl,” Leia murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

“That was barely three weeks ago. It seems ridiculous to know, so early.”

“Some women know. Some don’t.” 

“I can’t really think on it, yet.”

“I know.” Leia’s hand passed over her hair. “And that’s fine- but either way, you need to eat.”

Rey lifted her head, picking up a piece of dried apple with a resigned sigh and cramming it into her mouth. 

“Good,” Leia praised quietly. “Some tea will help.” 

Rey forced down a bite of smoked venison. In the back of her mind the bond hummed along, feeling of the uneasy peace found in unquiet sleep. “Will he be happy?” she asked, knowing the answer and yet needing confirmation all the same.

“He’ll be thrilled.” Leia stroked her hair once more before retrieving the pot from the fire, pouring steaming water into each mug. “He’ll be just like Han when I was pregnant, always trying to settle you in a soft chair or tuck you into bed for a nap.”

“That sounds annoying.” Rey managed a crooked smile, mashing another piece of apple between her fingers. “And nice.”

“It’s both,” Leia said with a laugh, and then sobered. “But,” she added, setting one mug in front of Rey, “the same caution I gave Rose applies to you.”

Rey nodded, nibbling at the dried fruit. She knew. She knew the risks of traveling, the risks of arriving in Aldera pregnant, the risks of being both who and what she was. She had known the risks of having sex while relying on an herbal contraceptive, and from that first night with Ben had still essentially thrown caution out the window. It had been too sweet, with him, too good for her to do anything but indulge. “Whatever happens will happen,” she murmured, and finished the bit of apple. “Can we… can we not talk of it again? Until after?”

“Yes.” Leia carefully schooled her expression into something bland, but beneath the facade Rey sensed understanding. “Eat a little more. Worry thrives on an empty stomach.”

The food helped. The tea helped. But their dreams never found common ground, and when Rey woke to stand guard she could feel him moving further and further away.

\- - -

Rey had half-expected to run into a band of soldiers during the last portion of their journey. She had not expected Leia to laugh at the sight of them, and to extend a hand to the tall, self-possessed woman in expertly fitted leathers who strode forward in greeting. “Amilyn.”

“Maz was right, then.” Amilyn- clearly the leader of the group watching with interest- waited for Leia to dismount and then pulled her into an embrace. “She thought you might be on your way, given- given the news.”

Rey cautiously dismounted her own horse, hanging back with one hand close to the dagger at her hip. 

“Is she well?” Leia asked, clasping Amilyn’s hands in hers. “Are _you_ well? Your people look well-equipped, at least.”

Amilyn lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “Well enough. And you know Maz; she always makes the best out of any situation.” She glanced at Rey over Leia’s shoulder, unexpected recognition in her eyes. “Is this Rey?”

“Yes.” Leia looked back at Rey, her smile reading of that kind of relief that only comes when something, against all odds, finally goes right. “Ben’s wife.”

The murmur that rose from the others caused that smile to slip, somewhat, from Leia’s face. Rey herself froze, the flicker of panic which zipped through her mind immediately answered by an wordless query from Ben. It was almost as if his arms wrapped around her, for a span of too-few seconds, a “Hmm?” crooned against her hair.

_Amilyn?_

She wasn’t entirely sure if he heard her. She wasn’t entirely sure how far away he was, or why the bond that had allowed his spirit to appear at odd intervals now seemed muffled by distance.

Amilyn smiled. “Maz was right about that, too,” she said as if to herself, shaking her head a little when Rey and Leia both turned suspicious looks on her. “Walk with me,” she suggested. “Your horses will be safe. You know me, Leia, even if your daughter does not.”

Leia hesitated only briefly before nodding. “I do.” She released Amilyn’s hands, and then looked toward Rey. “Amilyn was a trusted advisor while I reigned,” she explained, “and ever since she and her band have been doing what they can. I trust them. So do Han and Chewie.”

Rey’s hand dropped away from the dagger, albeit a tad reluctantly. “Very well.”

Amilyn’s people watched as they passed. Watched _Rey,_ and watched her with a kind of unsettling scrutiny- and then there was another emotional nuzzle from Ben, one tainted by worry. She did her best to push back soothing thoughts in return.

“We were hoping to cross your path,” Amilyn said once they were out of hearing distance. “When Maz told us what she saw, it sounded like utter fantasy- but here you are, with her.” 

“Me,” Rey said warily, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Leia had paled, fingers idly twisting the ring she wore round and round.

“You know how I feel about prophecies,” she said quietly. 

“I do,” Amilyn acknowledged. “And yet the damage has been done, I’m afraid.”

Rey was finding it very, very difficult to keep her panic from seeping through the bond. _This kind of trickery destroyed a family and a kingdom,_ she wanted to scream. _What are you playing at?_

( _But the dagger,_ a part of her mind insisted. _Everything she said. She knew. She knew._ )

“What did she say?” Rey asked instead, voice stilted and stomach roiling.

“That the green princess, newly wed to Alderaan’s heir, would save us all.” Amilyn nodded toward her. “While the wording is vague, there is only one true Alderaanian royal family, and that family only has one child.”

Leia looked down at her hands, a calculating expression on her face. Rey just felt sick. “How long has she been spreading this bit of information?” Leia asked. 

“I first heard whispers of it two months ago, thereabouts.” Amilyn looked between the two of them. “Would you like a moment?”

“Please,” Rey whispered. 

“Join us at camp, then, when you’re ready- and if it helps, we want to aid your cause.” Amilyn laid a hand gently on Leia’s shoulder. “We want to come with you.”

“Thank you.” Leia looked up, features blank. “Let me discuss this- all this- with Rey.”

The moment Amilyn was out of sight, Rey bent and vomited in the grass at her feet. Leia’s cool hands were stroking back loose wisps of Rey’s hair within seconds, a low sigh cutting through the air. “I don’t like it, either.”

Rey heaved again, nothing coming up, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “We cannot let this- this _cycle_ just happen again,” she said in a hoarse voice. “We’re just confirming a precedent.”

“You don’t know Amilyn, but I do- and believe me, darling, she wouldn’t be speaking of this so seriously unless the news had already saturated the entire kingdom.” Leia looked sympathetic and a little queasy herself when Rey finally straightened. “And I suppose there is a kind of poetic justice in using Snoke’s own tricks against him,” she added, almost ruefully. “What a mess.”

Rey took several steps away, settling under a tree with shaking limbs. “Has Maz done this before?”

“Maz has a well-deserved reputation for _knowing._ ” Leia sat beside her, carefully. “Most of it comes from a very extensive spy network, but there are some things… some things that aren’t.” She lifted a shoulder in a weary shrug. “Perhaps it is magic, perhaps she just has sources even I cannot fathom. I go back and forth on the matter myself.”

“She-”

Rey hesitated. Had Maz known about the bond, or had she simply spotted Rey sleep-walking through her halls and guessed at the right words? “What if this happens all over again, when…” she said instead, motioning awkwardly to her abdomen. 

“I know.”

“There’s no way to stop people from believing again.”

Leia sighed quietly. “No, there isn’t. But… education reform, of a sort, might help.” She plucked a blade of grass idly, wrapping it around one finger as she thought. “I expect we’ll have to build the schooling system from the ground up again, anyway,” she said dryly. “Focusing on critical thinking, teaching the true story of what happened… it might work.”

Rey touched her stomach absently. “Does ruling always feel so… so tenuous?”

“Like power might shift against you at any second? Sometimes. When I was a girl a revolution engulfed a neighboring kingdom. Within a year the ruling family was executed, and another noble family took the throne.” She gently took Rey’s other hand. “And five years after that, the same thing happened all over again. My mother was always open with me about the risks. She said-”

Leia paused, then continued, the words sounding a little raw, a little wistful. “-she said that all we could do was try to be just, and fair.”

It was an unkindness, Rey decided. Not Padmé’s advice, but the magic that bound both Leia and Ben- and now her, to a certain extent- to a land that had turned against them so decisively. 

_Even if they had agreed to escape over the border, they would have wilted._ The knowledge was instinctive, but Rey sensed it was correct. _Like rainforest flowers planted in a desert. They need Alderaan as much as Alderaan needs them._

“The truth will have to be enough,” Rey said finally, voice dull. “You trust Amilyn?”

“With my life.”

“Then it seems we have an escort.”

And hopefully their escort would stop looking at Rey as if they were measuring her against a standard only they knew.

\- - -

_It was just a snatch of a shared dream, their minds barely intersecting at just the right moment._

_“There’s my storm.” Ben sounded weary, but his tone warmed as he slid an arm around her in the dark. “I miss you.”_

_With a relieved sigh she relaxed against him, head resting just above his heart. “I miss you, too.”_

_“You’re almost there?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Stay safe, love.” His form felt less corporeal, diminishing as he presumably began to wake up. “My-”_

\- - -

When she woke her bedding was surrounded by gingerbells, an unconscious outpouring of magic that made an impression on their new companions. As they murmured amongst each other Amilyn strode up, an intrigued smile on her face. “Does that happen often?” 

“Yes.” Rey began gathering her things, pushing aside her annoyance at the way dew made everything perpetually damp. “Sometimes.”

“It’s certainly very… notable.”

“Yes,” Rey agreed, reaching up to double-check that the ribbon was still wrapped tightly around her simple braid. “Yes, it is.”

“It answers the question everyone has been asking about what Maz meant by ‘green’.” Amilyn crouched beside Rey, lowering her voice. “Do you believe in prophecy?”

Rey stared at her for a long moment, finally whispering with more defiance than was really necessary, “No.”

“Neither do I. But I’ll take whatever advantage we can get.” Amilyn straightened, taking a gingerbell with her as she rose. “Perfect,” she murmured to herself, examining the bloom, and moved away to speak to a small clutch of men and women.

Rey couldn’t seem to control the wave of flora that followed, after that. She left a trail of wildflowers in the wake of every step, whether it be her own or her mare’s- and though Leia and Amilyn barely blinked an eye, the others whispered. Not unkindly, but they whispered all the same. 

“Accustom yourself,” Leia told her gently the next time they stopped to make camp. “It’s not unlike being at court.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I’m not worried.” Leia glanced down at the delicate yellow flowers at their feet, a corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “You see people, Rey. You’re cautious. You’re empathetic, but you aren’t gullible.” She looked up, leaning in to brush a kiss over her cheek. “I’m not worried about you.”

Rey wasn’t entirely sure if that was a compliment or not, but it felt like one, in an odd way. 

The bond, though strained, was a reassurance, but the question of _Ben_ and _RoseFinnLuke_ was a constant in the back of her mind. Another constant question was _am I,_ though her inability to keep down even the increasingly stale journey cakes seemed to answer that question. 

And finally, on one bright afternoon, there it was: a sprawling city, bigger than any Rey had seen in Alderaan and far bigger than Jakku. She stared at the expanse, at the way it spread up the incline to the palace at the top of a height, feeling more than a little awed. 

“It looks…” she began, faltering, thinking _impossible_ and _impregnable._ “How do we get in?”

“At night,” Leia answered. “The siege tunnels were built for the use of the royal family alone- and theoretically, the only people yet living who know of them are members of the royal family.” She paused, pointing low on the hill. “There. If he doesn’t know, they’re safe, and a branch leads to the dungeons. If he knows, they’ll be… difficult.”

“And that’s our only way in?”

“Trying to make our way through one of the gates would be inadvisable.” Leia wrapped an arm around Rey’s shoulders. “Some tea, I think,” she said quietly. “A nap, if possible. And I know you don’t want to eat, but I’d like to see you try.”

“All right,” Rey murmured, reaching up to touch the ribbon once more. 

When she slipped into a troubled sleep, it was with Leia stroking her hair and a scant meal resting uneasily on her stomach.


	28. path

The horses remained at camp, guarded by a handful of sentries. Under the light of a waning moon their small party picked their way across the terrain, Rey intensely aware that flowers still trailed after her. 

_That’s very obvious,_ she told her magic, on edge. _Stop it._

A patch of white blooms erupted at her feet, catching what little moonlight there was.

 _Dark ones, then,_ she thought with resignation. _Give me that, at least._

Leia finally stopped in front of what appeared to be a solid rockface, hands planted on her hips. “Looks the same it always did,” she murmured. “Move back, everyone.”

For a moment nothing happened, and then rock slid away with an unsettlingly loud grinding noise, revealing a dark tunnel. Rey was not the only one to nervously look around, as if the sound might immediately draw a bevy of inquiring guards.

“We’re too far from the walls for them to hear,” Leia assured her quietly. “And the exit hasn’t been spelled to notify Snoke, at least as far as I can tell.”

A shiver crept along Rey’s limbs- nervousness, or perhaps subdued terror- and something similar seemed to play along the bond. Wherever Ben was, he felt close… but then, he would. That had been the plan, after all. She nearly reached out to him for comfort before reconsidering. There was too much an air of concentration, there, and she didn’t want to know what would happen if she distracted him. 

What moonlight there was did not penetrate far into the tunnel, and they all crept carefully through the dark for a solid minute before Leia squeezed Rey’s forearm with a whispered, “Now.” A touch of careful power lit the torch Rey held, and she passed the flame around to the others in their group. 

“Doesn’t look like it’s been touched,” Amilyn murmured, scuffing her booted foot in the thick layer of dust on the ground. The tunnel was rough-hewn stone, with thick-beamed supports arching across the ceiling at regular intervals. “Just spiders and dust.”

“As I had hoped.” Leia pressed one hand to the wall, gaze growing distant as her magic stretched ahead. “No other steps but ours,” she said finally. “We’re alone, at least for this portion.”

“Away we go, then.” Amilyn nodded toward the eight men and women who had accompanied them, flashing the group an encouraging smile. “We have a long walk ahead of us.”

Time became an odd, almost irrelevant thing. The tunnel gradually inclined upward, curving gently this way and that until Rey was no longer sure how far they had walked, or where they might possibly be, or how long she had been putting one foot in front of another- though the flowers, at least, ceased to follow. They stopped twice to rest, Rey diligently eating whatever was handed to her but barely tasting it each time. 

“This isn’t exactly the quickest escape route,” she told Leia at one point, accepting the water skin. 

“My ancestors traded speed for safety,” Leia responded with a shrug, absently twisting the ring she wore. “Better a long tunnel than trying to escape through a city that might be on fire, or full of hostile soldiers. Though,” she added with a wry smile, “I’ll admit that I had forgotten exactly how eerie this trek can be. I feel like we’ve been below ground for days.”

Rey felt the same, before they were done. When Leia finally led them down a branch in the tunnel, the stone leveling out beneath their feet, quiet relief seemed to sweep through them all- but even as Rey felt her worries ease, a tension rattled the bond. As Leia tested the next length of tunnel Rey carefully reached out, doing her best not to break Ben’s concentration. 

_-bent over Falcon’s neck, hooves thundering below, and they were close, too close, and-_

Rey sucked in a breath, the others so focused on Leia that no one noticed. 

_-my storm, my-_

The group walked on, leaving Rey behind. 

_I’m sorry._

The last thought was intentional, and shoved so desperately through the bond that it broke over her like a wave.

And then, nothing.

Nothing.

Just Rey shivering in a cool tunnel, clothes dampened with sudden sweat as she swayed where she stood, Ben wrenched from her mind with brutal finality. 

_He’s cursed again,_ she tried to convince herself, grateful no one had yet noticed that she no longer followed. _We knew this might happen. Another kiss and he’ll be fine._

 _But you could feel him, before, even asleep,_ came the insidious thought. _And now there isn’t even a beacon to guide you._

The others disappeared around a curve. At any moment Leia would note her absence, would search for her, and one look at Rey would tell her everything. The rescue mission would fall into shambles, would shatter just like Rey’s heart and composure and-

An unnatural calm dropped over her, blunting the razor-edged pain and providing her with the impetus to slowly, silently, turn and retrace her steps to where the tunnel had branched. Maybe Ben was truly gone, or maybe a second curse had severed the connection they shared, but there was one thing Rey knew as fact: he had been believed dead once, and had suffered for it. She would see him with her own eyes, press her fingers to his pulse, and then she would know. 

But that- that she would do by herself. _I’m not here,_ she thought, carefully using power to hide herself from even Leia’s magic. _You don’t hear my footsteps. You don’t see my path._

A flicker of concern briefly broke through the calm, and she settled one hand over her stomach. If she was right about their wedding night, if the nausea were truly anything other than nerves…

_Stay. Just… just stay._

\- - -

She had a torch, a half-full water skin, a set of lock-picks, the dagger, and a small packet of dried fruit tucked into the bag slung over her back. Not a lot, for what she needed to do, but more than Rey had possessed at many times in her life. 

_I would have felt rich, once, with all of this,_ she realized with reluctant humor. _Powerful._

As she passed beneath another set of support beams the smell of gingerbells caught her, and she looked up to see orange flowers blooming improbably from cured wood. “Is that encouragement?” she asked. “An indication that this is the right path?” 

Or maybe it was just her magic playing little games in the manner it liked best. 

The tunnel resolved with a dead end, and for a moment Rey simply stared at the stone in front of her, wondering if she had made mistake upon mistake upon mistake by slipping away unnoticed and walking thoughtlessly along a path that was utterly alien to her. Frowning, she set her torch in a holder on the wall. 

“First,” she whispered to herself, “how am I.”

It had been nearly two months since her magic had last caused her concern, but now was a moment for caution- both for her own sake, and because of what she might be carrying. A quick check was enough for her to breath a sigh of relief. No fever, no tremors, nothing odd or concerning. No indication that she might burn from the inside out at any moment, or create a crater with misplaced energy. “Thank you for that,” she told her magic. “You’re being very cooperative.”

Rey placed her hands on the rock, concentrating. “Could you open for me?” she asked, a pleading note slipping into her voice. The calm remained, but there was no doubt in her mind that at any moment it might disappear, and with it all of her composure. “Could you open, and let me slip through the halls unseen?”

The rock did not roll aside, but her palms did press through its surface. There was only the barest resistance, there, almost akin to walking through a heavy curtain of spider webs. With trepidation she dropped her hands and moved forward, closing her eyes at the last moment when the idea of walking into what looked like stone nearly overwhelmed her. 

“-the throne room?” she heard a quiet voice ask, and allowed her eyes to open. In front of Rey stood two young women, dressed in garb that would not have looked out of place in the village. Servants, she guessed, biting her lip when she saw the nervous looks they both wore and the bruise blooming on one cheek. They did not appear to notice her. 

“Herding them all in, like cattle,” the other woman said, twisting the rag she held in her hands. “Last time…”

She trailed off, and any questions Rey might have had about ‘last time’ were quickly brushed aside by a realization. _This_ time meant Ben. Alive or dead, Snoke intended to display him in a show of power, presumably in front of as many people as possible. She had spent a few hours, at least, making her way to this particular part of the castle; plenty of time for Snoke to set up a convincing bit of theatre. 

And Rey- Rey was furious. Distantly she recalled earnestly dissuading Leia from playing the monster, a part of her suddenly questioning that advice. It _would_ be satisfying to tear the palace down, stone by stone. It would be satisfying to scream her rage, to bury thorns in the fine fabrics of the furniture and shred everything to pieces. It would be satisfying to-

The two servants shivered, scuttling away with their heads close together, and their fear brought Rey partially back to herself. 

_Careful._ She took in a slow breath, reaching up to touch the ribbon with a hand that still shook with unspent anger. _Ben, I’m coming._

The tapestries to her right looked richer, more intricate, and it was in that direction she turned. Memories of the maps Leia, Ben, and Finn had created didn’t help her, at that moment, but her thieving had taught her a simple fact: in the homes of the wealthy, following the more extravagant path rarely led to the kitchen. It led to the bedroom with a jewelry box, or to the office with a potentially breakable safe. Here, it would lead to the throne room. 

_I’m not here,_ she thought, steps making no sound even as her sturdy boots struck stone. Guards strode past without a glance. _I’m the tapestry you stopped noticing years ago. I’m mottled gray stone. I’m the draft from a window._

“Bit him,” one guard told another with a harsh laugh as she passed. “Teeth went right through his glove.”

The other snickered. “And he didn’t skewer her?”

“Brought her and the man back to the castle, instead; said the king demanded it.”

Rey missed whatever came next, but knew instinctively who they were discussing. After Ben- who was _not_ dead; she wouldn’t allow it- she would find Rose and Finn. 

_I am stone, I am silk, I am air._

_Stay with me,_ a small yet persistent part of her mind whispered. _Heart, keep beating. Skin, stay warm. Little bloom, keep growing._

Rey’s only slip was minor. Her magic must have let loose a tendril of power, because the barest wisp of floral scent caught her nose as she passed through a semi-crowded gallery. A quick glimpse revealed a gingerbell lying half-hidden behind a curtain, and she quickened her pace until she was well away from the betraying flower. 

_Stone, silk, air._

The halls were a maze. Every face she saw wore ill-concealed fear. The tapestries increasingly glittered with gilt thread. When she finally reached the throne room, Rey knew it at first sight: golden light spilled through the wide-open doors, and to either side of a long, crimson-carpeted aisle stood richly dressed people, huddled and still. She slipped in behind a girl clothed in amber velvet who visibly trembled, her small hand clutched in that of an older man who was likely- given the resemblance- her father. 

_Stars._ The room was too warm, too crowded. Rey caught a glimpse of dark windows along the walls, all shut tight to the spring breeze. _We walked the day away,_ she thought, taking in careful breaths as the smell of nervous people and too many perfumes threatened to make her lose what little she had eaten. _Or two, or we’re stuck in some terrible endless night._

She instinctively crept along the wall, uncertainty over the passage of time and the unaccustomed press of the crowd setting her nerves alight. She couldn’t see the front of the room, couldn’t see anything more than brocade and silks and the way those surrounding her shivered despite the heat. 

_Stone, silk, air._

The barest of murmurs swept through the crowd, beginning on the other side of the room. Not Snoke’s entrance, Rey thought. Something else, something surprising, but not _too_ surprising. Not Ben. 

_Stone._

“Who?” a short man murmured, and for one heart-stopping moment Rey thought he had been talking to _her,_ but then his taller companion answered in an equally low voice. 

“Never seen then before. Man and a woman. Young.”

“Stars.”

_Silk._

“Hands over your ears, dear,” a woman whispered to a small boy a little further away. “Keep close to me.”

“Don’t faint,” another woman muttered as Rey slipped past. Perhaps she was talking to herself, or perhaps to the teenager clasping her hand tightly. “Just look down.”

Did they expect an execution? Torture? She had the sense that all of them bore a shared concern: that if they caught the wrong eye, they would become a victim in whatever lay ahead, regardless of their age or status or presumed innocence. 

_And if the nobles feel this way, the servants have it worse._ Rey had to stop for a moment, stomach rebelling. _No, no, stay down._

Sheer will alone kept her from vomiting, though it was a close call. 

Everyone around her dropped into a sudden obeisance, Rey clutching desperately at the spell as she found herself looking over a sea of bowed heads directly at a tall, almost skeletally thin man who could only be Snoke. ( _Air. AIR._ ) He strode directly toward the throne, lowering himself onto it with an expression of malicious pleasure on his face.

It was only when the initial panic wore off ( _he didn’t see me, he didn’t see me, his gaze went right through me_ ) that Rey noticed two things: first, the knot of guards surrounding her very alive friends. Finn’s face was hidden from her, but Rose looked ready to spit in the face of anyone who dared step close enough.

And second, the bier beside the throne, dark cloth clearly outlining a body. 

_stone silk air stone silk air NOT DEAD stone silk air please_

Before she could determine anything else, Snoke waved a hand and the crowd rose. Those nearest to her shrunk back toward the wall, blocking her path. 

“Sire.”

Rey knew that smug voice immediately. 

“Sir Hux.” Every syllable of Snoke’s words seem to slither, his satisfaction clear. “You’ve done well. Skywalker?” 

“Wrapped in spelled chains, as you requested, though he seems unlikely to survive the night.”

“Place him in one of the cages on the wall. The one nearest the gate.” Snoke rasped out a laugh. “Let as many as possible see his end.”

“And the other traitors?”

“Take them to the barracks. I’m sure the soldiers will have any number of creative ways to execute them… but not quite yet.” A pause, and then actual gasps rose from those at the front of the crowd. “A familiar face, I see,” Snoke said, and Rey longed more than anything to _know_. “Even after so many years, even after he grew from boy to man… but then, I did make sure that none of you would forget him, did I not?”

The room was so silent, so still, that a shuddered sob from amidst the crowd was clearly audible. 

“But someone is missing from this tableau, I think,” he continued mockingly. “Someone you whisper about when you think yourselves unobserved.”

Hands clamped around Rey’s wrists with bruising force. When she instinctively looked down she saw nothing, _nothing,_ but that nothing pulled her forward, dragging her through the startled crowd and sending adults and children alike to the ground in her wake. Dazed and breathless, Rey was unable to resist when she was shoved down to her knees directly in front of the throne, held there as firmly as if by a dozen men. 

“Ahh.” A cold smile spread across Snoke’s face. “Your _princess_ , powerless and dirty.” He lifted his gaze, looking around the room with an ever-sharpening expression of cruel joy. “I do not think she will be saving you today.”


	29. roses

She was pinned in place, unable to do so much as turn her head, and that alone was a small torture. Rey could see Ben’s boots, but not whether his chest rose and fell, nor whether his face bore any trace of life. Her magic beat wildly at the bonds holding her, unable to conjure so much as a violet from the carpet where she knelt.

“I have heard so much about you,” Snoke said in a dangerously soft voice, long fingers curling loosely over the arms of the throne. He did not look to be in any hurry to kill her, and Rey rather thought that was intentional. Whatever he had planned would be long, painful, and never forgotten by the petrified witnesses who surrounded them. “Imagine my surprise, finding that the source of all my problems is a disheveled nothing from nowhere, stinking of petty little magics.”

“Petty little magics seem to have served me well thus far,” Rey bit out in reply. “We can’t all take a kingdom through terror and trickery.”

He chuckled, watching her with the lazy scrutiny of a cat facing a cornered mouse. “Aren’t you a reckless little gremlin, sneaking in where you don’t belong and snarling at your betters.” The way he stroked the gleaming wood and gold of the throne somehow bordered on obscene, and set her stomach to roiling. “If you weren’t so notorious, I would be tempted to keep you on as a jester.” Snoke looked past her, gaze settling on someone or something to her right. “What would you do with such a savage, Hux?”

“There are any number of men in the barracks who would be pleased to teach her some manners.” A hand wrapped around her braid. “Chained down in the courtyard, where everyone can see how diligently they impart those… lessons.”

“Not with too heavy a hand, I hope,” Snoke replied with a half-smile. “If she bled out within the first hour, that would be quite disappointing.”

Hux tugged her head back, the magic binding her loosening enough for just that bit of movement. He smirked down at her, leaving Rey with no doubt that he intended to be at the head of the fray. “We will be very judicious in our attentions, Sire.”

“Touch me again,” Rey hissed, “and I’ll fill your lungs with thorns.”

Nearby, Rose allowed a sharp laugh to escape at the threat, the sound followed by the audible impact of a slap and a growl from Finn.

“When the sun rises, then.” Snoke stood as Hux released her hair. “I expect her to live until at least dusk.”

She was able to turn her head, now, and quickly shifted her gaze to Ben. He looked a little worse for wear- had he fallen from Falcon, when the curse hit?- but he breathed. _Wake up,_ she pled desperately, shoving the words fruitlessly toward where the bond used to be. _Wake up. Please. Wake up._

Snoke was walking away, his dismissal clear. As footsteps sounded behind Rey she knew that her window of opportunity, small though it might be, was closing. If they dragged her away from Ben, if this moment passed, they were lost- but she still couldn’t move. No one moved, save for Snoke and the guards, and a part of Rey hated their audience for that even as she recalled exactly how fear could freeze and bind just as thoroughly as magic or iron.

And then Snoke paused beside Ben, thin fingers gliding intimately down the scar that _he_ had caused and that Rey had often kissed so lovingly, a gloating smile stretching over his face. Rage, hot and fierce, flashed through her, burning away her invisible restraints. Before Snoke could do more than jerk his head up in surprise, she was on her feet and lunging toward him, pulling the dagger from its sheath. Cries shot up from the crowd, a scuffle beginning in Rose and Finn’s vicinity, but Rey barely registered any of it; there was just her and the way the dagger flashed as she swung it through the air toward her foe, the blade _inches_ from his stomach-

Power crashed down on her again, nearly flattening her to the floor and sending the weapon skittering away and out of reach. “Little _wretch._ ”

Rey panted, real hands closing around her ankles and wrists. “Ben, WAKE UP,” she shouted, the demand ringing through the room. An arm wrapped around her torso, jerking her up against someone unknown. “Wake up, wake up _now-_ ”

A gloved hand closed firmly over her mouth. Snoke strode back toward her, true anger glittering in his eyes for the first time. “Fetch the spelled chains,” he snapped, one hand darting out toward her hair. With a harsh tug he pulled the ribbon loose, dangling it in front of her face from two fingers as if it were something foul. “I will see you in pieces,” he hissed. “I will feed your limbs to the dogs, after you are dead, and mount your head above the walls.”

And he would. Rey could see that, easily enough, but there was _nothing,_ nothing she could do. _I’m sorry,_ she thought, unsure if she spoke to herself or Ben or the child they would never have together, or maybe to the children pressed close to their parents in the crowd behind her. _I failed. I-_

Her magic squirmed, moving as though testing a crack in a seemingly impenetrable wall, and for a moment she held her breath in hope. 

Whoever held her flinched for no discernible reason, but Snoke did not seem to notice. “I will bind your prince with iron and wall him into the darkest, dankest cell in the dungeon.” He leaned in, face only inches from Rey’s. “And when someone finds his bones in a hundred years, no one will remember his name. This is no story,” he sneered, crumpling the ribbon in his hand. “There will be no love conquering all, no bells ringing a joyful peal, no chance of you diluting the bloodline with wailing brats.”

 _Once upon a time,_ came the faintest, faintest whisper of her mother’s voice, and Rey would have shook her head if that had been within her power. Her captor flinched again, hand flexing against her mouth. 

_No story,_ Rey agreed grimly, her magic poking and prodding and finally slipping through a slowly widening crack. _Not a story at all._

The man behind her gave an odd, strangled shriek, his arms dropping away from her as he fell away, one foot catching Rey in a kick to the back of her thigh. Shouts rose around them, but Rey, still bound by magic, stared straight ahead into Snoke’s eyes. Her tongue, however, was once again free. “I will have love,” she promised him with deadly calm as utter chaos surrounded them. “And I will have the bells, and my children will laugh where you once walked.”

The power surrounding her constricted until she was nearly breathless, and with a surge of steely determination she sent her magic crashing toward him with not so much a plan as whole-hearted, nameless desire. 

The ribbon twisted in his hand. 

Snoke looked down, actual confusion flickering over his face. 

The end of the ribbon rippled again, as though caught by a breeze… and just as the first hints of a sneer reappeared, silk shifted lightning fast to sturdy, clambering vines which twined around his arms and torso, thorns hooking into skin and cloth and muscle as he struggled against the unexpected attack. Roses- pink and red, yellow and white, peach and crimson- all burst from buds in the space of seconds, releasing a heady, intoxicating scent. 

He was bound, but so, still, was she. As gingerbells sprouted from those same vines, blood streaking their stems, he leveled an expression of absolute rage on her. “You think to hold me with such paltry tricks?” he hissed, petals fluttering to the floor as he struggled. “With _plants_ like some common hedge-witch? You would have been _lucky_ to scrape out an existence begging for scraps, begging for-”

And then a familiar hand drove Padmé’s dagger directly into the side of Snoke’s neck, and the invisible bonds holding her shattered. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Ben said into the sudden hush, Snoke slumping to the ground with broken gasps between them. “I woke up as quickly as I could.”

He held himself with absolute confidence, the bloodied dagger still clutched in one hand as he stared down at her with a look she was more accustomed to seeing in their bed than in public. Rey pulled herself to her feet, barely noticing that lush meadow grass had grown up from the carpet underneath her. “I think your timing was perfect.”

A body lay between them, a crowd behind. Resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms- no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much she wanted to run, because what did one _do_ after killing a king?- she turned, head held high as she surveyed the crowd. It had thinned, unsurprisingly- some had fled, some still cowered against the walls, some had fought. Rose and Finn, though bloodied, had Hux pinned to the ground, and other members of the guard were similarly disadvantaged. Only few appeared to be dead, and one had been her own work: a body nearly encased in thorns at her feet, red and black armor peeking through the gaps.

“Your king is dead,” she announced flatly, and heard a faint gurgle as Snoke struggled to breathe. Close enough; he would be soon. “Would anyone _else_ like to raise a hand against my husband?”

“Rey,” Ben murmured, a glimmer of amusement in his voice. 

“It’s a valid question,” she snapped, too on edge for diplomacy. “I’m not in a mood to deal with knives in the dark or poison in our tea.”

“Lady,” a man said cautiously. It took her a moment to recognize the father of the girl in amber velvet. The girl herself, no more than ten, stood just behind. “I cannot speak for all, but both you and your husband have my fealty.” He knelt, head bent solemnly.

Like an ever growing wave others followed in quick succession, save for those still restraining the guards, and Rey’s sharp edges blunted at the remembrance of Snoke’s entrance. She didn’t want fear aimed in her direction, or to be a feature in their nightmares, or- 

“I’m not him,” Rey muttered in an attempt to convince herself. She shouldn’t have allowed her tone to grow combative; she shouldn’t have snapped. 

“No.” Ben, quietly. He skirted around their foe, his hand came to rest at the small of her back. “My storm, that isn’t fear- that’s relief.” A gentle nuzzle to her hairline. “Look.”

She did, and saw relaxed shoulders that had once been tense, curious glances from those whose eyes had been firmly trained on the floor. Rose finished securing rope around Hux’s wrists and flashed a triumphant grin in their direction.

Rey took in a steadying breath, nodding. A tentative peace, but that would do for a start. “What do we do now?” 

In answer Ben stepped forward, dropping to his knees in the grass before her feet with a satisfied smile. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Offering my fealty.” He took hold of one hand, thumb caressing the pulse point of her inner wrist, and brushed the barest of kisses over her fingertips. “I told you this day would come.”

\- - -

Few left the throne room, in the immediate aftermath, and most of those who did returned. Some brought supplies to tend the wounded, some dragged friends back to see Snoke’s demise with their own eyes, some fetched food prepared by curious and disbelieving kitchen staff. Rose spoke with nearly every servant who circled through the hall, while Finn conversed quietly with the guards who had turned against their brethren. “Spy for Holdo,” each guard claimed, which Rey supposed would be proven soon enough. Lacking any other option, she sent a group of them to find Luke, a healer they swore could be trusted in tow.

“I hope she doesn’t poison him,” she muttered to Ben after, taking a seat on one of the steps leading up to the throne. He settled beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

“I know.” He murmured the words, rendering them audible only to her amongst the blend of voices that filled the room. Rey felt as though she didn’t dare leave, and suspected Ben and everyone else felt much the same. Their victory still seemed tenuous, despite Snoke’s flower-decked corpse lying not too far away, and the fear that everything might come to naught lingered. “We need to find a healer for you.”

“I’m fine.” It was true, to a certain extent. Yes, she was bruised and exhausted, but she wasn’t worried about either of those factors. Her worry was for something deeper within, something she could hardly express in the middle of this crowded room. She might miscarry, or she might not, and only time would tell at this point. “Do you think the bond will come back?” Rey continued before he could protest.

“I hope so. My mind feels a little empty, without you.” She felt him press a kiss against her hair, his arm tightening around her. “You-”

“Well.”

The word lifted above the buzz of the crowd, drawing the attention of all. Leia stood at the threshold, somehow looking eminently regal despite her hours underground. Beside her, weary and battered but seemingly whole, stood Han- and behind them, Amilyn and what looked like a sizable army. 

Leia cast an assessing gaze around the room, a polite smile curving her lips as nearly everyone scrambled to stand and curtsy or bow. “You look to have this well in hand.”

Rey felt perilously close to weeping at the sight of them, but managed to stay calm as she came slowly to her feet. Ben moved more quickly, meeting his parents halfway down the aisle. He said nothing before their audience, and neither did they- instead Han cupped his cheek, and Leia took his hand, and they shared a moment of silent communion before Ben half-turned to give Rey an imploring look. 

“There we were, in the dungeons,” Leia said quietly once Rey was close enough to hear, “Amilyn trying to convince the pair of us that we needed to leave instead of searching for you, and suddenly the scent of gingerbells and roses swept past.” Her expression warmed. “It seemed like a good sign.” 

One corner of Han’s mouth quirked upward in a genuine if pained smile. He looked dearly in need of a healer and a soft bed, but he cupped Rey’s cheek just as tenderly as he had Ben’s. “Part of the family now, huh?”

“I suppose we should have waited on the wedding,” Rey replied hesitantly, only to receive a grin in return. 

“If I could have gotten away with a quick ceremony in the woods, I would have seized that opportunity and run with it.”

“You liked the food at ours, at least,” Leia murmured fondly, steadying him when he wobbled. “Lean on Ben, love; I need to address our people.”

She swept down the aisle with an air of complete self-assurance, stepping over Snoke’s body without hesitation. Rey could feel the tension in the room rising as Leia stopped in front of the throne, the silence heavy as she considered the crowd for one long, lingering moment.

“It would be foolish to pretend that many of you never wished me and mine dead years ago,” Leia finally said, voice level. “Even more foolish to offer absolution to all, given that some have happily spent Snoke’s reign inflicting as much cruelty as possible. Those who are accused of serious crimes will be tried, and tried fairly.” She paused, her expression shifting from unreadable to something a little more approachable. “That being said, I feel that, for most, simply living under Snoke’s shadow has been punishment enough.”

Tension was largely replaced by visible relief, for those in Rey’s range of vision. They hugged their neighbors, their children, tentative hope appearing on their faces.

“It will take time for us to rebuild,” Leia continued. “We will all have to endure at least a few lean years, but we will survive, and eventually we will _thrive._ ” Determination filled every word. “And there is no better time to begin than now.”

If she was startled by the initially ragged chant of “Long live the Queen” that rose from the crowd, she didn’t show it; instead she inclined her head in a slight nod of acknowledgment and left the platform, making her way toward a cluster of serving women as the chant strengthened and grew, echoing from the rafters.

“Right back in the palm of her hand,” Han said with gruff fondness, shaking his head a little. “Help me after her, Ben; she’ll work herself to death if we’re not careful.”

“Says the man holding himself together by sheer will-power alone.” Ben’s tone was dry, but he watched his father with concern. “ _You_ need to see a healer.” He turned that concern on Rey. “Will you come?”

The last thing Rey wanted was to be separated from him, but it felt wrong to leave Leia alone. “I’ll keep an eye on her.” She touched her husband’s cheek, wishing that even a fragment of their bond still remained. “Be careful.”

Ben looked ready to argue, but after a moment merely sighed and said, “Don’t think I won’t be back for you after he’s settled.” He leaned in, kissing her firmly before leading his father away. To Rey’s relief Finn and Rose fell in at his back, their captive in the custody of Amilyn’s soldiers. 

For a moment, Rey felt terribly and intensely _alone_ amidst the crowd. Those around her kept their distance, either afraid or unwilling to step too close, and she knew that if she made her way toward Leia that bubble would remain with her. 

_This is the life I chose,_ she reminded herself. _In time, they’ll know me as more than just the woman with flowers and thorns under her skin._

Easy to say, if hard to believe, but-

From high above, bells began to ring. A surprised laugh escaped her lips, her own promise echoing in her mind, and what yet shivered inside of her steadied. After a glance toward Leia, she considered who stood nearest.

“Hello,” Rey said to the girl in amber velvet, giving her an encouraging smile. “My name is Rey.” She would start here, with this child and her father. “What’s yours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a few loose ends to tie up, which knowing me may well take more than one chapter, so expect to see a few more updates on this fic. 😉


	30. choice

“Rey.”

The kitchen maid Rey had been talking with blushed, dipping in a hurried curtsy at the sound of Ben’s voice. She looked, Rey thought with weary amusement, a little starry-eyed as she stared up at her returned prince. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I steal away my wife,” Ben told her, one hand curling around Rey’s shoulder. “She needs rest.”

“Of course, Sire,” the girl said immediately even as Rey began, “Leia-”

She frowned, realizing for the first time that Leia was no longer in sight.

“She’s with Father,” Ben explained, drawing her away with a small smile for the maid. “Amilyn and her people have set up a schedule; they’ll keep things in order while we sleep.” He lowered his voice. “Between her efforts and Maz’s, they’ve managed to infiltrate nearly every part of the castle. I wonder if Snoke even guessed.”

“I suspect he was so paranoid that he often saw conspiracy even where there was none,” she murmured. They passed a window, and through the partially open drapes she saw that the sky was just beginning to lighten. “Luke?”

“He should pull through.” Ben was quiet for a moment. “I’m told he set fire to an entire squadron before they managed to sink spelled arrows in his leg and side.”

Rey was torn between amazement and worry. “They weren’t shooting arrows at you, I hope?” 

“Luckily, no. I’m honestly not sure how they took me down- one moment I was on Falcon’s back, and the next I was stuck inside my own head.”

He led her up a grand set of stairs and down two separate corridors before they came to solid double doors guarded by a pair of soldiers Rey knew- both Amilyn’s, and both trusted. “The family wing,” Ben said quietly, nodding to the guards as they let them past. “Mother and Father are at the end, Luke near them, and Rose and Finn there,” he continued, gesturing toward a shut door.

“Do they realize they’ve been adopted?” Rey asked with a tired laugh. The thigh that had taken a kick throbbed, and hiding it from Ben was taking all of her strength. 

“Doubtful; we’ll let them figure that out on their own.” He stopped in front of a door across the hall from Rose and Finn. “And here we are.”

The chamber was lavishly decorated, but beneath the glitter Rey recognized the same room that had flashed through Ben’s mind weeks ago. In front of the lit fire waited a filled tub and a stack of towels. “Do you think we could remove some of this?” she asked, leaning against him as she considered the furnishings and bric-a-brac. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep, with the way this room gleams.”

“I agree.” He huffed a laugh. “Perhaps we’ll sell some of it; the vases alone look like they would fetch enough money to feed a small village for a season.” 

Ben locked the door behind them as Rey walked further in, determined to make an inspection before what little energy she had remaining slipped away. “Ben?” she asked with a yawn as she pulled back the covers (no snakes, no spiders). “How did you wake up?”

She knelt to check under the bed, grimacing at the pain. Empty air and dust. 

“You called for me,” he answered simply, offering her a hand up. 

“That’s it?” Rey frowned, meeting his eyes. “I mean, I did call, but… I didn’t really think it would work.”

Ben shrugged, gently keeping hold of her hand. “The curse felt… different,” he explained, seeming to consider his words carefully. “Looser, almost. I’m not sure if Snoke underestimated how much power it would take to contain me a second time, or whether he intended to reinforce the spell after I was brought to the palace, but… but my magic is stronger, now.” A small smile curved his lips, but his eyes were haunted. “I was already chiseling away at the curse when I heard you call my name. You sounded so _desperate,_ and your voice did something- something more than spur me on.” He kissed the well of her palm, thumb caressing her skin. “As best I can tell, your magic weakened the curse from the outside, and mine from the inside.”

“Huh.” She pulled away, determined to check inside the two wardrobes and behind the tapestry before giving in to the urge to curl up on the bed. “Interesting.”

He followed a few steps behind, seeming content to wait as she put her mind at ease. “How did you bind him?” he asked curiously, rubbing her back as she rifled through the contents of one wardrobe. Linens and blankets, all high quality and meticulously laundered, sprigs of herbs tucked amongst the folds. 

“The ribbon.” Rey shut the doors and moved on to the next. “He snatched it from my hair, and my magic somehow transformed it.” She paused, giving him a crooked grin. “A lot of things happened tonight that I can’t quite explain, even to myself.” 

He dropped a light kiss on her mouth. “I wondered where that went.”

“I’m going to miss it,” she admitted, allowing herself one moment of grief for the loss of the token. “At least it was sacrificed to a noble cause.”

She checked the second wardrobe (rich garments that would fit neither of them) and the tapestry (bare stone wall). “Who was in this room before us?” 

“Me, at one point.” Ben began disrobing next to the tub, dropping his dirt-smeared and torn clothing on the floor. “And Snoke’s revolving selection of mistresses, after that.” 

“Are they all right?”

“The latest one practically wept with gratitude when she saw us.” His expression grew grim, and was momentarily hidden from her when he tugged his shirt over his head. “We found her a comfortable room in a quieter part of the castle, and the healer went to tend to her after finishing with my father.” A brief pause. “From what she said, it sounds as if he essentially carried her off from her family home one day.”

“And the others?”

“Some we might find, some might be beyond finding.”

Rey sat, tugging off her boots. “We’ll find a safe place for her, then,” she said quietly, wondering just how many women Snoke had stolen and tossed aside over the years. Were there children, somewhere? Were they cared for? “Her home, or elsewhere; whatever she likes.”

“I agree.”

He was nude when she looked back up, bruises evident on his skin. “You did fall from Falcon,” Rey said as she rose, moving toward him on stocking feet. “Your poor side.”

“Didn’t break anything, though.” Ben spoke as though his own pain were secondary. “Are you limping?”

“Maybe a little.” She slid her fingertips through the air just above his bruised hip. “A soak will help with your aches, if that water is hot.”

“You first.” He began stripping her as she opened her mouth to argue. “My storm, I’m perfectly willing to pick you up and dump you in that tub at this point,” Ben told her with strained patience. “You’ve been hiding that limp all night, haven’t you? I should have carried you to the room the moment my parents arrived.”

Rey considered him, and thought she felt- vaguely, faintly- a frisson of emotion that was not hers. “Very well.”

He eyed her as if suspecting a trick. “Rey?”

“Bathe me.” She leaned in, kissing where the scar ended on his chest. “I won’t fight you on it.”

He abruptly wrapped her in his arms, burying his face in her tangled hair. “ _Stars_.” A low, heartfelt murmur, and as his hold tightened he trembled a little. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t wake up in time; that I would open my eyes and you would be...”

“But you did wake up.” Tears slipped down her cheeks as she pressed closer, resting her head against his shoulder. “You did, Ben. And we’re going to sleep in that wretchedly opulent bed-”

His quiet, surprised laugh was interrupted by a slight hiccup. 

“-and when we wake up, we’re going to start making things better, little by little.” She was briefly tempted to tell him their maybe, but decided against it. No need to worry him, not yet. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He pulled back enough to meet her gaze, lifting a hand to brush away her tears as his own dripped unimpeded down his cheeks. “Different hangings will make the bed look more welcoming,” he promised, voice thick. “Something plainer, preferably.”

“What terrible taste that man had.” 

He helped her pull off the rest of her clothes, a wince appearing on his face when he caught sight of the back of her thigh. “What happened here?”

“A kick from the man I encased in thorns.” Twisting, she caught a glimpse of the deep bruise in the mirror. “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not as comforting as you think.”

Despite the scowl he wore, he bathed her as carefully as he might an infant. “Your knees, too,” Ben muttered. “If it were within my power, I’d kill him all over again.”

“Once was enough.” She cupped his scarred cheek. “Thank you.”

His expression gentled as he reached for a jug of water to rinse soap from her hair. “Of course.” Before lifting it, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always come for you- now close your eyes.”

“Did you hear Maz spread a prophecy about me?” she asked sleepily after he had bundled her in towels and gently pressed her down onto the divan, the light of sunrise just starting to spill through the open shutters. “That the ‘green princess’ would save everyone.”

Ben sighed, but he sounded faintly amused when he replied. “I missed that, but you have to admit she turned out to be right.”

“It would be a bad idea to ban soothsaying from the kingdom, wouldn’t it?”

“It would sound tyrannical, I’m afraid.” He knelt in the tub- too small for him to soak in, she realized- and began scrubbing at his own skin. “Unfortunately.”

“I hate it.”

“I know.” 

Rey caught his wince when he lifted his arms to wash his hair, and immediately she shrugged out of her towels and came to his side. “Let me.”

Ben didn’t argue, but instead caressed her hip, tilting his head back as she worked. “That feels nice.”

“Hmm.” Pleased, she dropped a kiss on his nose. “Just so you know, if anyone spreads dangerous prophecies about our children I will not be as kind as your mother.” Rey paused, feeling a tinge of guilt. “Not that I’m criticizing her.”

And she hadn’t been. Rey loved her mother-in-law, and knew that Leia had acted as she thought best- and she knew that Leia was no fool. Snoke had caught everyone off-guard, in many respects. 

“No, I understand.” Ben had his eyes closed, but the set of his mouth was grave. “I…”

He trailed off, and after a moment looked up at her. “If this ever happens again, my storm, we fight.”

With thorns and with fire and with every bit of strength, magical or otherwise, in their bodies. “We will,” she agreed. “If.”

“If.” Ben closed his eyes again when she reached for the second jug. “If.”

Scrubbed and covered with bruise balm they crawled into bed, the shutters closed against the light. “Clean sheets,” he murmured when she hesitated at the last moment, and hummed in satisfaction when his body wrapped around hers. “Sweetheart.”

Tucked up against his warmth, Rey felt better than she had in days. “Yes?” she asked drowsily, tugging the blanket up a little higher.

“Nothing.” Ben made a contented little sigh, snuggling closer. “I missed you.”

She smiled in the dark, feeling a definite brush of mind-to-mind contact. “I missed you, too.”

\- - -

_It had been a long time since Rey had seen a car. A busy highway lay before her, the median far more green than any she had ever seen in Jakku. Dozens upon dozens of vehicles streamed past at high-speed._

_“Do you want to go back?” the man beside her asked. Anakin, she knew without a doubt; tall, like his grandson, and something of a forest about him. “I didn’t ask you before, but-”_

_He hesitated, then continued in a low, almost sheepish tone, “Padmé would want you to have a choice, even if a late one.”_

_“You can’t see her?”_

_Anakin raised a hand. His fingers were human, but the skin looked almost like bark. “Sometimes I smell her perfume, or hear her laugh,” he said wistfully, “but we never seem to meet each other. Maybe someday.”_

_Willow fronds blended with his hair, she realized belatedly. His form might be limned in blue, but his eyes were a chlorophyll green that they had likely not been in real life. “Thank you for the roses.”_

_“Padmé would have liked that, too.” He looked away, back to the rapidly moving cars. “You wouldn’t have to go back to your home. I could take you to a better city, a kinder one… and the magic would allow for a good start. Money. Credentials.”_

_Rey tried to imagine a driver’s license created via Alderaanian magic, and had to press her mouth into a firm line to repress giggles. “No,” she said when she could again trust her voice. “I love Ben; I love the family I’ve created. I don’t want to be without them, no matter how much money you might be able to give me.”_

_She had the sense that he was relieved, even if his face didn’t show it. “Thank you.”_

_“I should be thanking you, I think.”_

_Anakin nodded, the view in front of them shifting to trees and undergrowth. “I’m not entirely myself,” he murmured. “Not anymore. But the forest sensed you, and it- we- knew you would help.” A slight smile curved his mouth. “Maybe not to this extent, though there is enough of me left to rejoice in my grandson’s happiness.”_

_“He makes me happy, too.” Rey considered him, one hand coming to rest purposefully over her stomach. “Can you tell?” she asked hesitantly. “It’s early… and between stress, and magic, and…”_

_She trailed off as he looked to her, the vastness of the forest in his eyes- and then he blinked, looking far more human. “As hardy as meadow wildflowers,” he told her gently. “Just like you.”_

_Rey grinned broadly, the part of her that had been wound tight relaxing completely. “Gingerbells?”_

_“A deeply rooted patch.” He touched her cheek with the tips of two fingers, smile growing. “Bring them back to the forest, one day.” A mischievous glint in his eyes. “I promise I won’t steal them.”_

\- - -

She ached, when she woke, but Rey slipped out from under Ben’s arm with a sense of peace. The muffled bustle of activity beyond their hall sounded kind, if that was possible, and she… she was down one unknown. 

_Thanks to a dream,_ she thought wryly, limping naked over to the screen that hid the chamber pot from sight. _Who would have thought I would become so trusting of dreams- or anything, really._

Needs tended to, she made her way toward one of the windows. The shutters opened with barely a sound, and when she cautiously peaked over the windowsill, careful of her own nudity, she found herself staring down into an overgrown and deserted garden. In the center was a statue so shrouded in vines and weeds that it was discernible only by its height. 

“Rey?”

Ben’s sleepy murmur tugged a smile from her. “Is this Padmé’s garden?”

He muttered something, a thump following a second later. When she glanced back she saw that he was on his feet, erect in more ways than one. “It’s barely-”

Ben shuffled over to her, squinting at the light. “Barely noon. Come back to bed,” he coaxed, kissing her shoulder. “I’ll help you sleep.”

She had no doubt that his languid attentions would do just that. “Tell me, first.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t sound disgruntled, just half-awake. “Yes.” Ben nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck, wrapping an arm loosely around her from behind. “We’ll ask the gardeners to prune.”

“No.” That patch of earth, she knew instinctively, was hers. “I’ll do it.” 

“Very well.” He sounded content when he spoke, his body pressed up against hers and hands gently stroking her skin in an undemanding fashion. “The garden is yours, if you want to tend to it. I know my mother would be happy to see it lovingly cared for.”

“I dreamed of your grandfather.”

“Did you?” he asked absently, his lips tickling her neck. “Come to bed, wife.”

“Ben.”

Another nuzzle, but he shifted his hips a little away from her. “Tell me.”

“He offered to send me back.”

Every inch of him stilled, leaving Rey feeling as if she were being held by a statue. “I would… I would never hold you here,” Ben said in a careful, stilted tone. 

“I know.” She caressed his forearm, utterly secure in her decision. “Ben, I told him no. There’s nothing for me there, and far too much for me here.” 

“Oh.” He relaxed, arms once more warm and loose around her. “I suppose that was… kind. To offer.”

“It was,” she acknowledged, and took his hand. “He was happy when I refused, Ben. And I was happy to refuse. There’s your parents, after all, and Rose and Finn, and honey cakes-”

He ducked his head, a laugh rumbling against her shoulder. 

“-and you.” Rey turned her head, catching only a portion of his face from her angle. “You know how I feel about you, Ben, even if our bond is weak at the moment. I could never leave you.”

She could feel his mouth curving into a smile against her skin. “I do know, my storm.” Ben lifted his head, tugging her closer to him. “I feel the same.”

Rey took in a breath, and pressed his hand against her stomach. “I would have, even if not for-”

A realization struck her belatedly, and it seemed to hit at roughly the same time Ben caught her meaning. “A baby?” he breathed, fingers spreading out over her skin. “ _Rey._ ”

“He said _them_ ,” she mumbled, straining to recall her dream. 

“What?”

“I was worried- worried something might-”

She could either laugh or cry, and Rey chose the former, giggles erupting from her as she leaned back against her excited and possibly concerned husband. “I was worried about the baby, but your grandfather said everything was fine, and he told me to bring _them_ back to the forest, someday…”

Ben seemed temporarily incapable of saying anything, and Rey eventually managed “I suppose he could have been using it in a neutral fashion…?”

She just laughed again when Ben scooped her into his arms. “Luckily, the nursery is large enough for half a dozen children,” he said in a voice thick with emotion, carrying her back to the bed. “Are you hungry? You should eat, and then rest a little more, and-” 

“We should check in on your parents,” she interrupted with a smile, running her fingers through his hair. 

“Just a little cosseting,” he pled, setting her down gently and then immediately crawling on top of her. “Please, Rey.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “A little? I don’t believe you.”

“A little cosseting today.” Ben caught her in a kiss, one deep and thorough and faintly desperate. “A little tomorrow.”

Breathless, she replied, “And a little the day after that?”

“I think I’m allowed.”

Her stomach audibly grumbled before she could respond, and a victorious smile appeared on his face. “I’ll call for food,” he said firmly, kissing her lightly and quickly. “Rest until it comes. Please.”

“Ben.”

“Rest.” Despite his stated intent he nipped at her lower lip, settling into the cradle of her hips. “Rest, and eat, and then I’ll love you back to sleep.”

“You appear to be approaching that list from the opposite end,” she pointed out as he scattered kisses over her face. 

“Hmm.” 

Rey would have been perfectly happy to let him continue on- would have preferred it, really- but their time was no longer entirely their own. Taking hold of his shoulders, she pushed until he took the hint, rolling off of her with an apologetic if not exactly repentant expression on his face. “I’ll rest until the food comes,” she promised, “and I’ll eat, but then we have to leave this room for at least a few hours.”

Ben propped himself up on one elbow, and for a moment just watched her with a soft smile. An undeniable surge of love fluttered over the still weak bond. “Very well.”

One kiss pressed to her belly, and then he was tucking her in. “Rest,” he said as he snagged a dressing gown left draped over the divan. “Please.”

“I won’t move an inch.” She might even doze, a little.

“Good.” He lingered at the door, seeming unable to look away from her. “Good.”

And then he grinned, as if learning the news all over again, and left the room to find a servant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we're looking at one more regular chapter and an epilogue; I can hardly believe it's almost done.


	31. hope

The first full day of their new rule, Snoke’s body was laid to rest. He was interred not in tomb befitting a king, nor burned to ash and dumped down a privy (Han’s suggestion), but buried in an obscure location outside the city without marker or ceremony. Rey had insisted, and with little real argument it had been done. 

“And in a few years?” Ben asked that night, after the lamp had been extinguished and they were both drowsy with a post-coital daze. “What would you expect to see above his grave, my storm?”

“Wild roses and gingerbells, running rampant.” She settled her head more comfortably on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart, then added, “I don’t think anything else will ever grow there again… or at the very least, not for a long time.”

She could almost see it: the impenetrable mass of flowers and vines sharp with thorns, encroaching on the trees and concealing and caging in what lay beneath. Snoke would feed the same land that he had ravaged, and nourish the same plants that had led to his downfall- and if his bones were found, in a century, or maybe two, no one would ever know his name.

Rey smiled into the dark, brushing a kiss on the skin over Ben’s heart. Poetic, she felt. And apt.

And very, very satisfying.

\- - -

“I can’t convince you to stay?” Rey asked quietly as she and Rose moved through the large, sprawling stable, knowing the question was a futile one. She gave Falcon, who had survived Ben’s capture mercifully unscathed, a gentle pat as they passed his stall. “We could send someone with messages for Paige and Chewie.”

“We’re not made for court life,” Rose replied, nose wrinkling. She was dressed for travel, her crown of braids immaculate and sturdily pinned. “Finn’s memories of this place are far more bad than good, and the thought of living in this cage of manners, of raising our children here… it sounds like a nightmare.” She smiled apologetically at Rey. “No offense meant. You and your family would be the only good part.”

“No, I understand.” They stopped a little away from the flurry of activity created by the coming departure. Rose and Finn were returning with more than welcome news; their packs held both travel provisions and goods almost impossible to acquire in the village. For safety’s sake they would be accompanied by a squadron of guards- the map still showed small pockets of soldiers loyal to Snoke scattered throughout the countryside- as well as a healer skilled in midwifery who had leapt at the chance to leave the capital behind. 

“Besides,” Rey continued, giving Rose a smile of her own, “if you don’t go back, Paige will storm the capital the moment she’s well enough, and we can’t have that.”

“Wise.” Rose’s face filled with amusement, and Rey would miss her, miss this uncomplicated friendship desperately. “Paige fights dirty.”

“I suspected that.”

“Your dynasty would topple a second time.” She sobered, taking Rey’s hand. “You’ll write, won’t you?”

Rey blinked back a few tears. “Yes.”

“Good.” Rose looked suspiciously teary herself. “Because I’ll be sending you letters whenever I can, about the baby and village gossip and… and harvest yields, I suppose.”

Rey laughed a little. “And mine will be about accidentally offending courtiers and taming the rose garden.” She lowered her voice. “You won’t be the only one with stories about a baby.”

Or babies, in Rey’s case, but both she and Ben had agreed to keep that bit of news secret for the time being. 

Rose broke into a grin, replying in an equally low voice, “I thought Ben looked particularly awestruck.”

“You would think I’d performed a miracle.” Rey’s gaze drifted to her husband, who talked quietly with Finn down the hall. After a moment he met her eyes, and in the space of a second his expression softened, that mouth she loved so much curving into a smile. “As if I’d done it all by myself, somehow.”

“Finn reacted similarly,” Rose murmured in an amused, confiding tone. “And with the exception of our little coup, hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of me since.”

“I honestly didn’t think Ben could be even more attentive in bed, but-”

“-but it’s kind of overwhelming in the best way possible?”

“Yes.” Rey smirked, feeling a flicker of faint amusement along the bond. Ben didn’t know exactly what they were talking about, but definitely recognized that their conversation had taken a wicked turn. “What am I going to do when you’re gone? We can’t put this kind of talk into letters.”

“We’ll have to visit, I suppose.” Rose swung their hands between them, drawing Rey’s attention back to her. “I’m sure I could convince Finn to make the trip every few years, and you-”

She paused, leveling a long look on Rey. “I don’t think you’re done with the forest.”

“No.” Rey said the word with a calm confidence. Neither she nor her family were done with those woods, and not just because one of their own was permanently intertwined with it. It would always be a place of refuge for them, throne or no. “Ben and I will return, at the very least, and we’ll bring the children. Maybe we’ll even foster them with you, for a few months.”

“Because monarchs need to know how to churn butter,” Rose shot back, only to have Rey shake her head firmly.

“Monarchs need to know how their people live. And if any of your children want to become knights or great scholars-”

“-or magicians-”

“-you send them to us.” Rey shrugged, her smile growing. “Who knows? Our families might be joined, one day.”

“The courtiers won’t know what to do with you and your ideas, once they get over their fear.”

“All for the better; I don’t want them getting complacent.”

Rose burst into laughter, pulling her into a tight hug, and it was in the spirit of that laughter that Rey watched her friend and ally leave. 

“They’ll be fine,” Ben murmured as the gate closed behind them, his arm wrapped comfortingly around Rey’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“I’m going to miss her.” Rey turned into his hold, hiding her face against his chest. She was doing her best to hold back tears, but pregnancy hormones had her at a disadvantage.

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, one hand rubbing her back soothingly. “I know, my storm.”

“People are watching.” 

“They are. It doesn’t matter.” He touched her cheek gently. “Come sit with me. You barely ate, this morning.”

Nausea and sick anticipation had done away with her appetite, but at his mention of food Rey felt a stirring of interest. “I could eat.”

“Good.” Ben drew her away, the pulse of emotion along the bond sweet and concerned. “In our room. No one will stare at you, there.”

“Other than you,” she joked weakly, and he bent to brush another kiss over her hair. 

“I’ll turn and face the wall.”

“No.” Their bond was still strengthening, but she managed to push a jumble of memories toward him. All were of Ben watching her in a variety of situations, the same loving look on his face. “I like it,” she muttered. “You know I do.”

“A simple meal for my wife,” he told the first maid they passed, the phrase more a request than an order. “Please bring it to our chambers.”

Rey huffed a laugh when the maid dipped a curtsy and rushed off. “They’re all half in love with you.”

“Your love is all I care about.” 

Her “Same” was blurred by an unexpected yawn.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, looking down at her. “Wife.”

Rey blinked, finding that farewells and hunger and pregnancy were creating a very compelling kind of fatigue. “Hmm?”

“I’m going to carry you the rest of the way.” Ben scooped her up before she could respond, and after a moment of consideration she sighed and allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. “Upset?” he asked quietly.

“No.” Let everyone stare; they would only see a woman who trusted her husband. “Wake me up when the food arrives.”

He cuddled her closer, the bond all protectiveness and quiet love. “I will.”

“Unless you think I’ll lose their respect.”

Ben laughed a little, his gate changing as he started up the first flight of steps. “Thorns,” he murmured, and that was that.

\- - -

Somewhere around the third week, everyone seemed to finally, finally, take a moment to catch their breath. The initial transition from one rule to another had been harried and scrambling, everyone attending to whatever had to be done _now_ and _immediately_ as the injured were cared for and innocent prisoners released and decrees sent to every corner of the kingdom. Garrisons had to be secured, and stray loyalists apprehended, and amidst the chaos no one thought anything of Rey attending to her duties while dressed in practical, hurriedly altered clothing. 

But in that breath, the focus of palace life shifted from bare necessities to something approaching determined normalcy, and what felt like a horde of seamstresses descended on Rey with measuring tapes and bolts of velvet and silk and fine lawn. 

“You’ll grow accustomed,” Leia assured her when she caught Rey smoothing her skirts for the dozenth time in an hour. She glanced toward the untouched honey cakes on the table. “And you can eat, darling. We pay our laundresses well for a reason, and they’re very good at what they do.”

“Do I look ridiculous?” Rey asked, fiddling with one cuff. “I feel like… like an urchin wearing a queen’s clothing.”

“You look lovely.” Leia moved a large wooden box to the edge of the table, closer to her. “And very natural, when you aren’t fidgeting.” She softened the last with a smile, adding, “I miss simpler clothing, as well, but- annoyingly- people really will give you more respect when you dress the part.” She shook her head, running her fingertips over the carvings that decorated the lid. “Especially foreign ambassadors, who smile to your face while taking scrupulous mental notes for their monarchs.”

“Ahh.” Rey drew her hand away from the cakes, uncertain if the sudden tinge of nausea was related to her physical state or that reminder. 

“You’re Alderaan, now,” Leia said, a little apologetically. “Just as Ben and Han and I are. Sooner, rather than later, other kingdoms will send those ambassadors to ascertain our willingness to renew old ties, and to determine just how strong or weak our hold on the throne may be. We all need to be ready.”

She lifted the lid, and whatever Rey might have said was lost to awed silence as the afternoon sun caused the contents to gleam and glitter. Leia touched a silver circlet woven with pearls and spoke, a nostalgic note to her voice. “Some heirlooms may need to be sold, but not these.” She lifted the top tray away, revealing another layer underneath. A third layer lay beneath that, and then a fourth. “My mother wore them when she was the heir, and I think they will suit you.”

After a moment of consideration she selected a delicate crown of gold and rubies, holding it up for Rey’s inspection. Rey took in a breath, slowly sitting up straighter. “Ben mentioned that one.”

“He was right to; it’s perfect.” 

Leia carefully settled the crown on her head, the weight less than Rey had been expecting. She held herself utterly still, afraid that if she moved even an inch the gleaming creation would topple to the floor. 

“Just keep your head up and you’ll be fine,” Leia advised, standing and holding out a hand to her. “Come and see.”

“I look… like me,” Rey said after a long look in the mirror, the words coming out with a bit of surprise. 

“Have you been avoiding your own reflection?” Leia asked with understanding. 

“Yes.” Rey brushed a hand down her crimson velvet skirts. “I… well, Ben has been very complimentary, but…”

“But Ben loves you, and you naturally suspect him of being biased,” Leia finished, accurately guessing her thoughts. “Which he is- but he’s also telling you the truth, darling. You look beautiful.” She tucked a loose wisp of hair back into the intricately wrought braids Ben had created that morning. “And he’s been arranging your hair with a crown in mind, I see.”

_Cared for,_ Rey thought. _I look cared for. Beloved._

There hadn’t been a mirror in the village, but she suspected she would have seen the same then, as well- and given a choice between ‘beautiful’ and ‘beloved’, Rey would always choose the latter.

“The side-lacings were a good idea,” she said after a moment, her throat beginning to grow tight. “Practical.”

“With a coordinating layer beneath, we can let them out as much as you need.” Leia took Rey’s hand, drawing her attention away from the mirror. “Are you ready to learn some deathly dull protocol?”

Leia’s dry tone lightened Rey’s mood. “It seems like I don’t have a choice.”

“You don’t, but that’s why I provided sweets.” Leia guided her back to the couch, nodding with approval when Rey carefully sat, head held high. “There is a great deal to accomplish, but we’ll be careful with you.” Her smile was fond, and motherly, and comforting enough to ease what tension was left in Rey’s throat. “You’ve already experienced more than enough excitement for one pregnancy.”

\- - -

To Rey’s relief, life gradually took on a kind of routine. She would wake to sleepy murmurs from Ben, who coddled her through the morning nausea until she felt well enough to dress. There were council meetings to attend, open court for petitioners of high and low rank most afternoons, and lessons from newly hired tutors in between. By the time Rey retired after dinner, she wanted nothing more a private hour with her husband and a solid night’s sleep.

And, as she grew accustomed to court, court grew accustomed to her. Awe shifted to curiosity, curiosity to sharp consideration, and- whether she liked it or not- Rey became a reluctant participant in court politics. She didn’t mind (much) the ones who attempted to make an ally of her. That was natural enough, and several of the courtiers who approached even seemed worth cultivating. They spoke of crumbling bridges, or mills in need of repair, or burned crops, all situations Rey was perfectly happy to address. Those became her projects, and after Luke healed he showed a surprising willingness to act as her right hand in those matters.

The ones she minded- the ones she hated- were the men and handful of women who seemed to think she could be swayed by sweet words, or even lured into an affair. 

“A few thorns wouldn’t go amiss,” Han muttered to her one afternoon. He had intercepted her in the royal gallery, stealing her away from a particularly flirtatious young man whom Rey had been seconds away from slamming to the floor. “Right in the crotch.”

“Ben’s the size of a tree; you’d think they’d be smarter than this,” Rey hissed in reply, slowing her steps to keep pace with Han, who was still regaining his stamina. “Though he gets more than enough attention himself.”

“Jealous?”

“No,” she answered honestly. “I don’t like it, but I know Ben would never lay a finger on them.”

“It won’t go away,” Han informed her. “There will always be someone looking for advantage. Just yesterday some young knight tried to get under Leia’s skirts. Winsomely.”

Rey frowned, unsure exactly what he meant by that, and decided she didn’t really need to know. “How do you deal with it?”

“Grumble when I can, and laugh when able.” He tucked her arm through his. “Both of us know the other would never stray. We keep each other abreast of the various attempts, so we’re never caught off-guard.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s a very odd joke we share with each other.”

Rey considered him carefully, the worry that had been gnawing at her slowly dissipating. “So if you heard rumors about me…”

“I would assume someone was trying to cause trouble.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, patting the hand that rested on his forearm. “We know you, Rey, as does Ben- and from what Leia says, the two of you are even more closely tied than most married couples.”

The relief she felt was absolutely physical. It was an uneasy, distressing state of affairs, to be pursued when Ben’s claim on her and hers on him were so incredibly obvious. Ben’s perception of the situation she hadn’t worried about- the bond, as Han had noted, kept them both attuned to the other- but a part of Rey had worried that her in-laws might misunderstand. “Oh.”

Han patted her hand again. “We love you,” he muttered gruffly. “Trust you, too. Not going to toss you aside because the court gossips are saying the same things about you they said about me.”

“Thank you,” Rey whispered, glad that they were turning down the family wing. “That means a great deal.”

“I don’t want you worrying about those vipers.” They moved through the double doors, past the guards. “I would say that even if you weren’t in a family way. Ruling is difficult enough; you don’t need any more uncertainty on top of that.”

Now in relative privacy, she stopped in the middle of the hall. “No one would have believed me, back… back where I was. About anything.”

“And now you’re with us.” He met her gaze, the set of his jaw firm. “You’re my daughter.”

“That’s-”

Rey dragged in a breath, tears spilling down her cheeks. “That’s nice.”

Han looked vaguely uncomfortable, but she had the sense that it was out of care for her, and not out of embarrassment. “I’m not even sure why I led you here,” he muttered. “Seemed like the safest place.”

She laughed, wrapping him in a quick hug. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Rey,” he said as she began to walk to her room, an impromptu nap in mind. 

“Yes?”

“You’re good at this.” Han’s expression was utterly earnest as he spoke. “Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.” 

And then he gave her a crooked, encouraging grin, less a king and more the man she had shared so many campfires with. “And you look damn good in a crown.”

\- - -

Summer arrived. Rey’s nausea abated, Chewie and his family appeared with Dopheld Mitaka unexpectedly in tow, and crops began to shoot up in the fields with every evidence of a forthcoming plentiful harvest. Life was busy, and full, and at night Ben and Rey shut their door against the bustle of the palace with gratitude and relief. 

Stripped of excessive ornamentation, their bedroom had become a much-needed sanctuary. “Our quiet room,” she murmured after a particularly long day, nestling closer to Ben on the divan. The warm night air, scented with roses, drifted through the open shutters. “Just like you promised.” 

“No crowns or court manners; just me and you.” His hand settled on her stomach, caressing the small bump. “Are you happy, my storm?”

“You know I am.”

“Yes.” He nuzzled at her hairline, the heat of his body soaking through the thin shift she wore. “But I like hearing it aloud.”

The bond was all peaceful contentment, and that emotion infused her words. “It’s an odd life,” Rey admitted honestly. “And maybe I’m not so fond of the formalities, or the gossip, or of being curtsied to every time I turn around, but we do good here, Ben.” She curved her hand over his, feeling satisfaction anew. “The fear is going away. The people we see every day, and those who petition for aid at open court- they have hope, now. I can see it.”

The scars would remain for years, but a beginning to healing was a beginning, no matter how small. It was no pat _happily ever after,_ but their life was no story.

_Better,_ she thought, her ever after warm at her back and safe under their joined hands. _Far, far better than a story._

Rey turned her head, smiling up at him. Her Ben, no longer dreaming, no longer shadowed. “So yes, I’m happy- very, very happy.”

“Good.” He kissed her gently, arms secure around her. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left!


	32. epilogue: seasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a very long journey, and one I loved making. Thank you so much to each and every one of you who encouraged me along the way; your comments and kudos and bookmarks were such a gift.

1\. _autumn_

The garden should not have reminded Rey so strongly of the forest, but it did. Even with the bushes pruned and the vines tied back, the paths raked and the statue scrubbed clean of moss, a watchful protectiveness lingered. It made the small space an invaluable second sanctuary to Rey, even when she was unable to tend to the roses herself. A lack of time, and her increasingly large belly, had forced her to begrudgingly allow a handful of gardeners to take up that duty.

Padmé, at least- for surely that air of protectiveness was Padmé- didn’t seem to mind that hands other than Rey’s tended to the soil. She was forgiving in that way, Rey felt. She had been a queen, a wife, a mother, and if she had enjoyed gardening or embroidery or any number of hobbies she had surely known what it was to set those things aside for her greater responsibilities. 

So a part of Padmé remained, and Rey walked in her garden and carried her dagger and, every time her magic shifted with a contented purr, remembered quite how much she owed her husband’s grandmother. 

“I see you bloom in truth.”

Rey didn’t even startle, though by all rights she should have: the garden was reserved for only the royal family, and guards remained at the gate around the clock. “In a very obvious fashion.” She looked toward Maz, hands cradling her belly. “Was telling tales really necessary?”

Maz raised a brow, a slight smile curving her mouth. “Tales?”

“Maz.”

“I simply made sure that everyone knew what I knew. Know.” Maz settled on the low stone wall across from Rey’s wooden bench, looking very satisfied with herself. “I could see all that greenery in your eyes the first time we met, and I could see the shadows of that curse lapping at your ankles. You tumbled into Alderaan a catalyst. You had no choice but to bring change, one way or another.”

Rey felt the beginnings of irritation course through her veins, and with it a wordless question from Ben when that irritation slipped through the bond. “You knew he wasn’t dead,” she said flatly. “You should have told someone.”

“No, not until I saw you.” The satisfaction disappeared, replaced by an expression far more serious and earnest. “Do you truly think I would have kept such a secret from Han, or from Leia? If I had known, I would have traveled to that village myself, even if it meant sending them both onto a killing field. No, I was convinced that Ben was dead… and then you walked in.”

Maz was quiet for a moment, head tilted to one side. “Forest eyes, like Anakin, but for a second the smell of roses was in the air, and I could almost see Ben staring at me over your shoulder. It was quite the revelation.”

“What did you tell Han?”

“That he was to take good care of you, or I would set a hex on him.” Maz shrugged. “He scoffed, we all shared a few drinks, and then I left to keep an eye on the dagger. I knew you would find your way there, and you did.”

Rey’s irritation ebbed, and with a sigh she let it go entirely. “Still… prophecy.”

“I never said it was a prophecy,” Maz insisted sternly. “I made an educated guess, and I whispered that guess into the right ears.”

“And now people sing songs about the princess who was foretold,” Rey replied dryly. A gust of early autumn wind swept through the garden, tugging at what few petals remained on the stem. “Very few of those songs get it right, you know. The majority of them make it sound as if I was borne into the throne room on a flower-bedecked litter and Snoke keeled over at the mere sight of me.”

Maz nodded sympathetically. “I personally prefer the one that graphically describes you eviscerating him with a single magical rose.”

“It’s certainly closer to the truth,” Rey muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “What made you decide to visit?”

“Curiosity. And I had a feeling that we would need to clear the air, so to speak.” Maz stood, brushing off her trousers. “I couldn’t exactly wait for you to come to me,” she added, sly amusement slipping onto her face. “Though…”

“Though?”

“If you need a safe place to stay, between here and the woods, you know where to find me.” She pulled a small bag from her pocket, handing it to Rey. “And I suggest you find a shady spot for these, next spring.”

“What are they?”

“Another kind of rose. They only grow deep in the forest, but-”

Maz looked around the garden, her gaze lingering on the statue of Padmé. “-but I think they might flourish here, don’t you?” She looked back to Rey, and winked. “The soil wouldn’t be right anywhere else.”

 

2\. _winter_

“Are you sure you aren’t cold?” Ben asked, clearly concerned and just as clearly doing his best to hide that fact. “The snow is growing thicker.”

“I-”

Rey’s breath caught as another contraction gripped her. The pains had begun early that morning, almost in concert with the first storm of the season, and what had initially been manageable was now almost overwhelming. “I’m aware,” she gritted out, leaning back against him. “I- I just needed to _move._ ”

And breathe fresh air, and not be confined to her bed with the shutters drawn and a fire roaring on the hearth. There had been a moment when she had thought that the castle healers would press her back to the mattress, restraining her even as they apologetically murmured “Your Highness _mustn’t,_ ” but a snapped order from Leia and Ben’s growl at her growing panic had made them retreat. 

The gingerbells that had popped out of the bedding had probably helped, too.

Ben was right, though- she needed to return to their room. Wanted to return, even, after ten minutes of shuffling around the garden in the snow. She wanted to curl up on her side, and she wanted him to rub her back, and more than anything wanted to meet their children face to face after months of them crowding her internal organs.

“You’ll stay with me?” she asked as the contraction eased, not minding, for once, the pleading note in her voice. “You won’t let them send you away?”

“I’ll be with you every second.” He was practically cradling her, his body sheltering hers from the worst of the wind. “Look at me, my storm.”

Ben was smiling gently when she met his gaze, worry lacing the love along the bond, as well as-

“Stars,” she muttered, too tired to feel any guilt. “You can feel all of this.”

“Just an echo,” he assured her. “Don’t think on it.”

“You should close the bond.”

“No.” He kissed her quickly, and then began guiding her back inside. “I have no interest in blocking you from my mind, or in getting drunk in the library while you’re laboring, no matter what the healers think is proper.”

The stairs just inside the door loomed ahead of Rey like an impossibly steep cliff-face, but Ben merely knocked the snow off of his boots and picked her up in his arms. 

“I want Mother to catch the babies,” she said wearily as he carried her up the steps. “No one else.”

Ben huffed a laugh. “I’m fairly sure she would stab anyone who tried to get in her way.”

“I love her.”

“She loves you.”

“Ben.” 

He stopped at the top of the stairs, meeting her eyes. “Sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

With a smile he pressed a kiss to her hair, holding her as if she were the most precious bundle in the world. “For what, love? You’re doing all the work.”

The bells rang for their daughters an hour past midnight, as snow fell lazily under the light of a full moon. 

 

3\. _spring_

Rey planted the seeds herself, pushing them one by one into spring-fresh soil. “A good, shady spot,” she murmured to them as she worked, smiling when she heard a playful growl from Han followed by shrieks of infant laughter. “You’ll grow for me, won’t you? Here, with Padmé and her roses welcoming you into the fold?”

One by one by one, each seed tinged with a bit of the forest magic Rey recognized. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint her,” she added coaxingly, patting earth over the last. “Would you?”

 _No,_ Rey thought, feeling a hint of _something._ They wouldn’t disappoint. These roses, wild as they might be, would take root and flourish. And maybe one day, when the buds unfurled and the vines clambered over stone, they would act as a kind of door, allowing two ghosts to see each other once more. 

Maybe.

She stood, brushing dirt from her hands, and joined her family in the sun. 

 

4\. _summer_

Rey remembered her mother’s stories, but she had no memories of lullabies. If anyone had ever sung to her, the lyrics were lost behind cheap motel locks and in the haze of dusty desert days. When Rey wanted to sing her own children to sleep, she could only hum or string meaningless syllables together to the tune of whatever bits of music were stuck in her head courtesy of the court musicians.

Leia sang, though, and in a language that Rey did not know but was suited to her raspy voice. Han sang, when he thought no one was around to hear. His lullabies sounded like herding songs, all about lambs and wobbly-legged colts.

Ben sang to their daughters, and he did so unashamedly: in the nursery, in their bedroom, even in the middle of the throne room. Rey was fairly certain that if anyone still harbored notions of Ben as a figure of destruction, the way he doted on their tiny girls, rocking them in his arms and patiently soothing them even at their fussiest, would have swayed even the most stubborn of minds.

And here he was, singing some song about the flowers of summer as he rained rose petals down onto their delighted daughters. Breha and Padmé, both dark-haired and dark-eyed, both looking so much like Ben that Rey fell in love with them all over again every time they smiled at her. 

She shifted on the blanket spread over the grass, finding a more comfortable spot. Breha- pink petals in her hair and crushed in her fists- noted the movement, her mouth quivering as if Rey had leapt to her feet in preparation to run. Rey immediately picked her up, cradling her sniffling daughter to her chest. 

“Sweetheart.” Rey kissed her hair, inhaling the scent of roses and honey soap. “No need to cry.”

The bond hummed with love. Ben was grinning, sunlight slipping through the leafy branches over their heads and illuminating his face. Padmé, not yet aware that her twin’s mood had shifted, held up a single petal to her father with an imperious “ _Da._ ”

Another kiss to Breha’s hair. “Little love,” Rey murmured, smiling. “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
